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BIO  GJ-I^-A^3?KCI  C.A.L       ESS-A.-5rS. 


ESSAYS 


BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  CRITICAL; 


OR, 


kVuB  of  €\Mukx. 


r  Y 


HENRY  T.  TUCKERMAN. 


"  All  my  life  long 
I  hare  beheld  with  mo»t  respect  the  man 
Who  knew  himself^  and  knew  the  wayt  before  him  ; 
And  fVom  amongst  them  chose  considerately. 
With  a  clear  foresight,  —  not  a  blindfold  courage ; 
And,  having  chosen,  with  a  steadfast  mind 
Pursued  bin  purposes."— Tat  lor,  Fhilip  Van  Artevelde. 


BOSTON: 

PHILLIPS,   SAMPSON   AND    COMPANY. 

1  SST. 


T8 


'    J!n*-fcred  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1856,  bj 
HKITIY  T.  iuCKERMAN, 
Ip  thfc  Clerk's  Office  ^  the  District  Cocrt  of  the  District  of  Massachus^ts. 


stereotyped  by 

EOBAKT  A   BOBBINS, 

V«W  £ii(Und  'Type  *nd  Stereotype  Fousdery, 

■eiToa. 


x^^ 


^'^^ 


A^' 


»>* 


%^^ 


S 


^^ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON, 

THE  PATRIOT, 5 

LORD   CHESTERFIELD, 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD, 29 

DANIEL  BOONE, 

THE   PIONEER, 42 

ROBERT  SOUTHEr,         v.   I  ^    ^  ■  -*^      <   ^1±^^  ^^^v. 

THE  MAN  OP  LETTERS, 69 

SIR  KENELM   DIGBY, 

THE  MODERN  KNIGHT,  . 75 

JACQUES  LAFITTE,  ^~^    '0-  ' 

THE  FINANCIER 83 

EDMUND   KEAN, 

THE    ACTOR, 95 

THEODORE  KORNER,  1  J 

THE  YOUTHFUL  HERO, 103 

ROBERT   FULTON, 

THE  MECHANICIAN,     . 121 

JOHN  CONSTABLE,  '^     ''-^    '■  ' 

THE  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER, 136 

CHATEAUBRIAND, 

THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME, 144 

FRANCIS  JEFFREY,     ^ 

THE  REVIEWER 164 

R03ER  WILLIAMS, 

THE  TOLERANT  COLONIST, 181 

RICHARD  SAVAGE, 

THE  LITERARY  ADVENTURER, 191 

DE  WITT  CLINTON, 

THE  NATIONAL  ECONOMIST, 204 

JENNY  LIND, 

222 


THK  VOCUS.    .   ^^3.^,3J_. 


IV  CONTENTS. 

^GEORGE  BERKELEY, 

THE  CHRISTIAN  PHILOSOPHER, 238   f 

GIACOMO  LEOPARD  I,   ^ 

THE  SCEFTICAL  GENIUS, 267 

,    DANIEL  DE  FOE, 

THE  WRITER  FOR  THE  PEOPLE, 285   if> 

JOHN  JAMES  AUDUBON,        r  ; 

THE    ORNITHOLOGIST,  . 304 

LAURENCE  STERNE, 

THE    SENTIMENTALIST, 315     > 

MASSIMO  D'AZEGLIO,        '^'  kl 

THE   LITERARY  STATESMAN, 342 

SYDNEY  SMITH/ 

THE  GENIAL  CHURCHMAN, 358    ^ 

CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN,    ^^^^ 

THE    SUPERNATURALIST^ 369 

SIR  DAVID    WILKIE, 

THE  PAINTER  OF  CHARACTER, 379 

JOSEPH  ADDISON, 

THE  LAY  PREACHER,. 394    [3 

GOVERNEUR  MORRIS,     '/^  pj 

THE  AMERICAN  STATESMAN,     412 

SILVIO  PELLICO, 

THE  ITALIAN   MARTYR 428     ' 

,  THOMAS  CAMPBELL, 

THE  POPULAR  POET,   . 441 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN, 

THE  AMERICAN  PHILOSOPHER, 456  i> 


THE   PATRIOT,      . 

GEORGE    WASHINGTON 


The  memory  of  Washington  is  the  highest  and  most  precious 
of  national  blessings,  and,  as  such,  cannot  be  approached  by  artist 
or  author  without  reverence.  To  pervert  the  traits  or  to  mar  the 
unity  of  such  a  character  is  to  wrong,  not  only  his  sacred  mem- 
ory, but  the  dearest  rights  of  his  countrymen.  A  poet  once 
conceived  a  drama  based  on  the  fate  of  Andre ;  and,  after  striv- 
ing to  embody  Washington  in  the  piece,  in  a  manner  coincident 
with  his  own  profound  sense  of  his  character,  he  found  that  the 
only  way  of  effecting  this,  without  detriment  to  his  ideal,  was  to 
keep  that  august  presence  off  the  stage,  and  to  hint  its  vicinity 
by  the  reverent  manner  in  which  the  name  and  views  of\  Wash- 
ington were  treated  by  all  the  dramatis  pcrsonoi.  This  instinct 
of  dramatic  propriety  is  a  most  striking  proof  of  the  native  sacred- 
ness  of  the  subject.  The  more  fertile  it  may  be  to  the  poet  and 
philosopher,  the  less  right  has  the  biographer  to  interfere  with, 
overlay,  or  exaggerate,  its  primitive  truth,  and  the  more  careful 
should  he  be  in  adhering  to  the  lucid  and  conscientious  statement 
of  facts,  in  themselves,  and  for  themselves,  immeasurably  precious. 

"  You  have  George  the  Surveyor,"  said  Carlyle,  in  his  quaint 
way,  to  an  American,  when  talking  of  heroes.  Never  had  that 
vocation  greater  significance.  It  drew  the  young  Virginian  uncon- 
sciously into  the  best  education  possible  in  a  new  country  for  a 
military  life.  He  was  thereby  practised  in  topographical  obser- 
vation ;  inured  to  habits  of  keen  local  study  ;  made  familiar  with 
1* 


6  THE     P  ATRI  0  T. 

the  fatigue,  exposure,  and  expedients,  incident  to  journeys  on 
foot  and  horseback,  through  streams  and  thickets,  over  mountains 
and  marshes ;  taught  to  accommodate  himself  to  limited  fare, 
strained  muscles,  the  bivouac,  the  woods,  the  seasons,  self- 
dependence,  and  eflfort.  This  discipline  inevitably  trained  his 
perceptive  faculties,  and  made  him  the  accurate  judge  he  subse- 

.  quentlj  became  r  of  the  capabilities  of  land,  from  its  position, 
* ,  r'limitsVanii'^qfialjtj,  for  agricultural  and  warlike  purposes.  A  love 
„.  pf  ^eld' sports,,  thfe. chief  amusement  of  the  gentry  in  the  Old 

■  I/ominien,'  and  the  oversight  of  a  plantation,  were  favorable  to 
the  same  result.  Life  in  the  open  air,  skilful  horsemanship,  and 
the  use  of  the  rifle,  promoted  habits  of  manly  activity.  To  a 
youth  thus  bred  in  the  freedom  and  salubrity  of  a  rural  home, 
we  are  disposed  to  attribute,  in  no  small  degree,  the  noble  devel- 
opment of  Washington.  How  naturally  frank  courage  is  fostered 
by  such  influences,  all  history  attests.  The  strongest  ranks  in 
the  old  Roman  armies  were  levies  drawn  from  the  agricultural 
laborers ;  the  names  of  Tell  and  Hofer  breathe  of  the  mountains ; 
and  the  English  yeomen  decided  the  victory  on  the  fields  where 
their  kings  encountered  the  French  in  the  early  wars.  Political 
economists  ascribe  the  deterioration  of  modern  nations,  in  those 
qualities  which  insure  fortitude  and  martial  enterprise,  to  the 
encroachments  of  town  life ;  and  the  greatest  cities  of  antiquity 
fell  through  the  insidious  luxury  of  commercial  success.  Nor 
are  these  general  truths  inapplicable  to  personal  character.  In 
crowded  towns  artifice  prevails.  In  the  struggle  for  the  prizes 
of  traffic,  nobility  of  soul  is  apt  to  be  lost  in  thrift.  The  best 
hours  of  the  day,  passed  under  roofs  and  in  streets,  bring  not  the 
requisite  ministry  to  health,  born  of  the  fresh  air.  It  enlarges 
the  mind  to  gaze  habitually  upon  the  horizon  unimpeded  by  marts 
and  edifices.  It  keeps  fresh  the  generous  impulses  to  consort 
with  hunters  and  gentlemen,  instead  of  daily  meeting  "the  hard- 
eyed  lender  and  the  pale  lendee."  In  a  word,  the  interest  in 
crops  and  herds,  in  woodland  and  upland,  the  excitement  of  deer- 
shooting,  the  care  of  a  rural  domain,  and  the  tastes,  occupations, 
duties,  and  pleasures,  of  an  intelligent  agriculturist,  tend  to  con- 
serve and  expand  what  is  best  in  human  nature,  which  the  spirit 
of  trade  and  the  competition  of  social  pride  are  apt  to  dwarf  and 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  7 

overlay.  AuspiciouSj  therefore,  were  the  influences  around  the 
childhood  and  youth  of  Washington,  inasmuch  as  they  left  his 
nature  free,  identified  him  with  the  least  artificial  of  human  pur- 
suits, and  nursed  his  physical  while  they  left  unperverted  his 
moral  energies.  He  became  attached  to  the  kind  of  life  of  which 
Burke  and  Webster  were  so  enamored,  that  they  ever  turned 
with  alacrity  from  the  cares  of  state  to  flocks  and  grain,  planting 
and  reaping,  the  morning  hunt,  and  the  midsummer  harvest. 
There  would  seem  to  be  a  remarkable  affinity  between  the  charm 
of  occupations  like  these  and  the  comprehensive  and  beneficent 
mission  of  the  patriotic  statesman.  To  draw  near  the  heart  of 
Nature,  to  become  a  proficient  in  the  application  of  her  laws,  to 
be,  as  it  were,  her  active  coadjutor,  has  in  it  a  manliness  of  aim 
and  a  refreshing  contrast  to  the  wearisome  anxieties  of  political 
life,  and  the  sordid  absorption  of  trade,  which  charm  such  noble 
minds,  and  afford  their  best  resource  at  once  for  pastime  and 
utility. 

There  were,  too,  in  that  thinly-peopled  region  over  which 
impends  the  Blue  Ridge,  beside  the  healthful  freedom  of  nature, 
positive  social  elements  at  work.  The  aristocratic  sentiment  had 
a  more  emphatic  recognition  there  than  in  any  other  of  the  Eng- 
lish Cisatlantic  colonies ;  the  distinctions  of  landed  property  and 
of  gentle  blood  were  deeply  felt ;  the  responsibility  of  a  high 
caste,  and  of  personal  authority  and  influence  over  a  subject  race, 
kept  alive  chivalric  pride  and  loyalty;  and,  with  the  duties  of  the 
agriculturist,  the  pleasures  of  the  hunt  and  of  the  table,  and  the 
rites  of  an  established  and  unlimited  hospitality,  was  mingled  in 
the  thoughts  and  the  conversation  of  the  people  that  interest  in 
political  affaii*s  whence  arise  public  spirit  and  patriotic  enthusiasm. 
Thus,  while  estates  carelessly  cultivated,  the  absence  of  many 
conveniences,  the  rarity  of  modern  luxuries,  the  free  and  easy 
habits  of  men  accustomed  rather  to  oversee  workers  than  to  work 
themselves,  the  rough  highways,  the  unsubstantial  dwellings 
and  sparse  settlements,  might  not  impress  the  casual  observer  as 
favorable  to  elegance  and  dignity,  he  soon  discovered  both  among 
the  families  who  boasted  of  a  Cavalier  ancestry  and  transmitted 
noble  blood.  The  Virginia  of  Sir  Walter  llaleigh  —  a  country 
where  the  most  extravagant  of  his  golden  dreams  were  to  be 


8  THEPATKIOT. 

realized  —  had  given  place  to  a  nursery  of  men,  cultivators  of 
the  soil,  and  rangers  of  the  woods,  where  free,  genial,  and  brave 
character  found  scope ;  and  the  name  of  the  distant  colonj  that 
graced  Spenser's  dedication  of  the  Faerie  Queene  to  his  peerless 
sovereign,  instead  of  being  identified  with  a  new  El  Dorado,  was 
to  become  a  shrine  of  Humanity,  as  the  birthplace  and  home  of 
her  noblest  exemplar. 

These  advantages,  however,  "Washington  shared  with  many 
planters  of  the  South,  and  manorial  residents  of  the  North,  and 
they  were  chiefly  negative.  A  broader  range  of  experience  and 
more  direct  influences  were  indispensable  to  refine  the  manners 
and  to  test  the  abilities  of  one  destined  to  lead  men  in  war,  and 
to  organize  the  scattered  and  discordant  elements  of  a  young 
republic.  This  experience  circumstances  soon  provided.  His 
intimacy  with  Lord  Fairfax,  who.  in  the  wilds  of  Virginia,  emu- 
lated the  courteous  splendor  of  baronial  life  in  England,  the 
missions  upon  which  he  was  sent  by  the  governor  of  the  State, 
combining  military,  diplomatic,  and  surveying  duties,  and  espe- 
cially the  acquaintance  he  gained  with  European  tactics  in  the 
disastrous  campaign  of  Braddock,  —  all  united  to  prepare  him 
for  the  exigencies  of  his  future  career ;  so  that,  in  early  man- 
hood, with  the  athletic  frame  of  a  hunter  and  surveyor,  the  ruddy 
health  of  an  enterprising  agriculturist,  the  vigilant  observation 
of  a  sportsman  and  border  soldier,  familiar  alike  with  Indian 
ambush,  the  pathless  forest,  freshets  and  fevers,  he  had  acquired 
the  tact  of  authority,  the  self-possession  that  peril  can  alone 
teach,  the  dignified  manners  of  a  man  of  society,  the  firm  bear- 
ing of  a  soldier,  aptitude  for  affairs,  and  cheerfulness  in  privation. 
To  the  keen  sense  of  honor,  the  earnest  fidelity,  the  modesty  of 
soul,  and  the  strength  of  purpose,  which  belonged  to  his  nature, 
the  life  of  the  youth  in  his  native  home,  the  planter,  the  engi- 
neer, the  ambassador,  the  representative,  the  gentleman,  and  the 
military  leader,  had  thus  added  a  harmony  and  a  scope,  which 
already,  to  discriminating  observers,  indicated  his  future  genius 
for  public  life,  and  his  competency  to  render  the  greatest  national 
services. 

During  these  first  years  of  public  duty  and  private  enterprise, 
it  is  remarkable  that  no  brilliant  achievement  served  to  encourage 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  9 

those  latent  military  aspirations  which  lurked  in  his  blood.  Brad- 
dock  scorned  his  advice  ;  Governor  Dinwiddie  fliiled  to  recognize 
his  superior  judgment ;  and  he  reached  Fort  Duquesne  only  to 
find  it  abandoned  by  the  enemy.  To  clear  a  swamp,  lay  out  a 
road  through  the  wilderness,  guide  to  safety  a  band  of  fugitives, 
survey  faithfully  the  Shenandoah  valley,  treat  effectively  with 
Indians,  and  cheer  a  famished  garrison,  were  indeed  services  of 
eminent  utility  ;  but  it  was  only  indirectly  that  they  were  favor- 
able to  his  renown,  and  prophetic  of  his  superiority.  His  appar- 
ently miraculous  escapes  from  bullets,  drowning,  and  the  ravages 
of  illness,  called  forth,  indeed,  the  recognition  of  a  providential 
care  suggestive  of  future  usefulness  ;  but  the  perplexities  grow- 
ing out  of  ill-defined  relations  between  crown  and  provincial 
officers,  the  want  of  discipline  in  troops,  the  lack  of  adequate 
provision  for  the  exigencies  of  public  service,  reverses,  defeats, 
physical  and  moral  emergencies,  thus  early  so  tried  the  patience 
of  Washington,  by  the  long  endurance  of  care,  disappointment, 
and  mortification,  unredeemed  by  the  glory  which  is  Avont  to 
attend  even  such  martyrdom,  that  he  cheerfully  sought  retire- 
ment, and  was  lured  again  to  the  field  only  by  the  serious  danger 
which  threatened  his  neighbors,  and  the  prompting  of  absolute 
duty.  The  retrospect  of  this  era  of  his  life  derives  significance 
and  interest  from  subsequent  events.  "We  cannot  look  back,  as 
he  must  often  have  done  from  the  honorable  retreat  of  his  age, 
without  recognizing  the  preparatory  ordeal  of  his  career  in  this 
youth  and  early  manhood,  wherein  he  experienced,  alternately, 
the  solace  of  domestic  comfort  and  the  deprivations  of  a  border 
campaign,  the  tranquil  respectability  of  private  station  and  the 
responsibility  of  anxious  office,  the  practice  of  the  camp  and  the 
meditations  of  the  council,  the  hunt  with  gentlemen  and  the  fight 
w^ith  savages,  the  safe  and  happy  hospitality  of  a  refined  circle  and 
forest  life  in  momentary  expectation  of  an  ambush.  Through  all 
these  scenes,  and  in  each  situation,  we  see  him  preserving  perfect 
self-control,  loyal  to  every  duty,  as  firm  and  cheerful  during  the 
bitter  ordeal  at  Fort  Necessity  as  when  riding  over  his  domain  on  a 
summer  morning,  or  shooting  game  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac, 
ready  to  risk  health,  to  abandon  ease,  to  forego  private  interests, 
with  a  public  spirit  worthy  of  the  greatest  statesman,  yet  scru- 


10  THEPATRIOT. 

pulouSj  methodical,  and  considerate  in  every  detail  of  affairs  and 
position,  whether  as  a  host,  a  master,  a  guardian,  a  son,  or  a  hus- 
band, as  a  member  of  a  household  or  a  legislator,  as  leader  of  a 
regiment  or  agent  of  a  survey  ;  and,  so  highly  appreciated  was 
he  for  this  signal  fidelity  within  his  then  limited  sphere,  that  his 
opinion  in  a  social  discussion,  his  brand  on  tobacco,  his  sign- 
manual  to  a  chart,  his  report  to  a  superior,  and  his  word  of 
advice  or  of  censure  to  a  dependent,  bore  at  once  and  forever 
the  sterling  currency  and  absolute  meaning  which  character 
alone  bestows.  In  this  routine  of  duty  and  vicissitude  under 
these  varied  circumstances,  in  the  traits  they  elicited  and  the 
confidence  they  established,  it  is  impossible  not  to  behold  a  school 
often  severe,  yet  adequately  instructive,  and  a  gradual  influence 
upon  the  will,  the  habits,  and  the  disposition  of  Washington, 
which  laid  the  foundations,  deep,  broad,  and  firm,  of  his  charac- 
ter, and  confirmed  the  principles  as  well  as  the  aptitudes  of  his 
nature. 

So  intimately  associated  in  our  minds  is  the  career  of  Wash- 
ington with  lofty  and  unsullied  renown,  that  it  is  difficult  to  recall 
him  as  divested  of  the  confidence  which  his  fame  insured.  Wt 
are  apt  to  forget  that  when  he  took  command  of  the  army  his 
person  was  unfamiliar,  and  his  character  inadequately  tested  to 
the  public  sense.  Ofiicers  who  shared  his  counsels,  comrades  in 
the  French  war,  neighbors  at  Mount  Vernon,  the  leading  men  of 
;his  native  State,  and  a  few  statesmen  who  had  carefully  informed 
themselves  of  his  antecedent  life  and  private  reputation,  did, 
indeed,  well  appreciate  his  integrity,  valor,  and  self-respect ;  but 
;to  the  majority  who  had  enlisted  in  the  imminent  struggle,  and 
the  large  number  who  cautiously  watched  its  prospects  before 
committing  either  their  fortunes  or  their  honor,  the  elected  chief 
was  a  stranger.  Nor  had  he  that  natural  facility  of  adaptation, 
or  those  conciliating  manners,  which  have  made  the  fresh  leader 
of  troops  an  idol  in  a  month,  nor  the  diplomatic  courtesy  that 
wins  political  allies.  If  we  may  borrow  a  metaphor  from  natural 
philosophy,  it  was  not  by  magnetism,  so  much  as  by  gravitation, 
that  his  moral  authority  was  established.  There  was  nothing  in 
him  to  dazzle,  as  in  Napoleon,  nothing  to  allure,  as  in  Louis 
XIV.,  when  they  sought  to  inspire  their  armies  with  enthusiasm. 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  11 

The  power  of  Washington  as  a  guide,  a  chieftain,  and  a  represen- 
tative of  his  country,  was  based  on  a  less  dramatic  and  more 
permanent  law ;  he  gained  the  influence  so  essential  to  success, — 
the  ability  to  control  others, —  by  virtue  of  a  sublime  self-govern- 
ment. It  was,  in  the  last  analysis,  because  personal  interest,  selfish 
ambition,  safety,  comfort,  —  all  that  human  instincts  endear, — 
were  cheerfully  sacrificed,  because  passions  naturally  strong  were 
kept  in  abeyance  by  an  energetic  will,  because  disinterestedness 
was  demonstrated  as  a  normal  fact  of  character,  that  gradually, 
but  surely,  and  by  a  law  as  inevitable  as  that  which  holds  a  planet 
to  its  orbit,  public  faith  was  irrevocably  attached  to  him.  But 
the  process  was  slow,  the  delay  hardly  tolerable  to  a  noble  heart, 
the  ordeal  wearisome  to  a  brave  spirit.  In  our  view,  no  period 
of  his  life  is  more  affecting  than  the  early  months  of  his  command, 
when  his  prudence  was  sneered  at  by  the  ambitious,  his  military 
capacity  distrusted  even  by  his  most  intimate  friends,  and  his 
"  masterly  inactivity  "  misinterpreted  by  those  who  awaited  his 
signal  for  action.  The  calm  remonstrance,  the  inward  grief,  the 
exalted  magnanimity,  which  his  letters  breathe  at  this  crisis, 
reveal  a  heroism  of  soul  not  surpassed  in  any  subsequent  achieve- 
ment. No  man  ever  illustrated  more  nobly  the  profound  truth 
of  Milton's  sentiment,  "  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and 
wait."  His  was  not  simply  the  reticence  of  a  soul  eager  for 
enterprise,  the  endurance  of  a  forced  passivity,  with  vast  peril 
and  glorious  possibilities,  the  spur  of  necessity,  the  thirst  for 
glory,  and  the  readiness  for  sacrifice  stirring  every  pulse  and 
bracing  every  nerve ;  but  it  was  his  part  to  "  stand  and  wait  "  in 
the  midst  of  the  gravest  perplexities,  in  the  face  of  an  expectant 
multitude,  with  a  knowledge  of  circumstances  that  justified  the 
*'  hope  delayed,"  and  without  the  sympathy  which  alleviates  the 
restless  pain  of  "  hope  deferred," —  to  ''  stand  and  wait "  before 
the  half-averted  eye  of  the  loyal,  the  gibes  of  a  powerful  enemy, 
the  insinuations  of  factious  comrades, —  with  only  conscious  rec- 
titude and  trust  in  Heaven  for  support.  How,  in  his  official  cor- 
respondence, did  Washington  hush  the  cry  of  a  wounded  spirit ; 
how  plaintively  it  half  escapes  in  the  letter  of  friendship ;  and 
how  singly  does  he  keep  his  gaze  on  the  great  cause,  and  dash 
aside  the  promptings  of  self-love,  in  the  large  cares  and  imper- 


12  THEPATRIOT. 

sonal  interests  of  a  country,  not  yet  sensible  of  its  infinite  need 
of  him,  and  of  its  own  injustice  ! 

The  difficulties  which  military  leadership  involves  are,  to  a 
certain  extent,  similar  in  all  cases,  and  inevitable.  All  great 
commanders  have  found  the  risks  of  battle  often  the  least  of  their 
trials.  Disaffection  among  the  soldiers,  inadequate  food  and 
equipment,  lack  of  experience  in  the  officers  and  of  discipline  in 
the  troops,  jealousy,  treason,  cowardice,  opposing  counsels,  and 
other  nameless  dangers  and  perplexities,  more  or  less  complicate 
the  solicitude  of  every  brave  and  loyal  general.  But  in  the  case 
of  Washington,  at  the  opening  of  the  American  war,  these  obsta- 
cles to  success  were  increased  by  his  own  conscientiousness  ;  and 
circumstances  without  a  parallel  in  previous  history  added  to  the 
vicissitudes  incident  to  all  warfare  the  hazards  of  a  new  and  vast 
political  experiment.  That  his  practical  knowledge  of  military 
affairs  was  too  limited  for  him  to  cope  auspiciously  with  veteran 
officers, —  that  his  camp  was  destitute  of  engineers,  his  men  of 
sufficient  clothing  and  ammunition, —  that  the  majority  of  them 
were  honest  but  inexpert  yeomen, — that  tory  spies  and  luke- 
warm adherents  were  thickly  interspersed  among  them, —  that 
zeal  for  liberty  was,  for  the  most  part,  a  spasmodic  motive,  not 
yet  firmly  coexistent  with  national  sentiment,  —  that  he  was 
obliged,  month  after  month,  to  keep  these  incongruous  and  dis- 
contented materials  together,  inactive,  mistrustful,  and  vaguely 
apprehensive,  —  all  this  constitutes  a  crisis  like  that  through 
which  many  have  passed ;  but  the  immense  extent  of  the  country 
in  behalf  of  which  this  intrepid  leader  drew  his  sword,  the  diver- 
sity of  occupations  and  character  which  it  was  indispensable  to 
reconcile  with  the  order  and  discipline  of  an  army,  the  habits  of 
absolute  independence  which  marked  the  American  colonists  of 
every  rank,  the  freedom  of  opinion,  the  local  jealousies,  the  brief 
period  of  enlistment,  the  obligation,  ridiculed  by  foreign  officers 
but  profoundly  respected  by  Washington,  to  refer  and  defer  to 
Congress  in  every  emergency,  —  this  loose  and  undefined  power 
over  others  in  the  field,  this  dependence  for  authority  on  a  dis- 
tant assembly,  for  aid  on  a  local  legislature,  and  for  cooperation 
on  patriotic  feeling  alone,  so  thwarted  the  aims,  perplexed  the 
action,  and  neutralized  the  personal  efficiency  of  Washington,  that 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  13 

a  man  less  impressed  with  the  greatness  of  the  object  m  view, 
less  sustained  by  solemn  earnestness  of  purpose  and  trust  in  God, 
would  have  abandoned  in  despair  the  post  of  duty,  so  isolated, 
ungracious,  desperate,  and  forlorn. 

Imagine  how,  in  his  pauses  from  active  oversight,  his  few  and 
casual  hours  of  repose  and  solitude,  the  full  consciousness  of  his 
position  —  of  the  facts  of  the  moment,  so  clear  to  his  practical 
eye  —  must  have  weighed  upon  his  soul.  The  man  on  whose 
professional  skill  he  could  best  rely  during  the  first  months  of  the 
war,  he  knew  to  be  inspired  by  the  reckless  ambition  of  the  adven- 
turer, rather  than  the  wise  ardor  of  the  patriot.  Among  the 
Eastern  citizens  the  spirit  of  trade,  with  its  conservative  policy 
and  evasive  action,  quenched  the  glow  of  public  spirit.  Where 
one  merchant,  like  Hancock,  risked  his  all  for  the  good  cause, 
and  committed  himself  with  a  bold  and  emphatic  signature  to  the 
bond,  and  one  trader,  like  Knox,  closed  his  shop  and  journeyed 
in  the  depth  of  winter  to  a  far  distant  fort,  to  bring,  througli 
incredible  obstacles,  ammunition  and  cannon  to  the  American 
camp,  hundreds  passively  guarded  their  hoards,  and  awaited  cau- 
tiously the  tide  of  affairs.  While  Washington  anxiously  watched 
the  enemy's  ships  in  the  harbor  of  Boston,  his  ear  no  less  anx- 
iously listened  for  tidings  from  Canada  and  the  South.  To-day, 
the  cowardice  of  the  militia ;  to-morrow,  the  death  of  the  gallant 
Montgomery  ;  now,  the  capture  of  Lee,  and  again,  a  foul  calumny; 
at  one  moment  a  threat  of  resignation  from  Schuyler,  and  at 
another  an  Indian  alliance  of  Sir  Guy  Johnson ;  the  cruelty  of 
his  adversaries  to  a  prisoner ;  the  delay  of  Congress  to  pass  an 
order  for  supplies  or  relief;  desertions,  insubordination,  famine; 
a  trading  Yankee's  stratagem  or  a  New  York  tory's  intrigue ; 
the  insulting  bugle-note  which  proclaimed  his  fugitives  a  hunted 
pack,  and  the  more  bitter  whisper  of  distrust  in  his  capacity  or 
impatience  at  his  quiescence :  these,  and  such  as  these,  were  the 
discouragements  which  thickened  around  his  gloomy  path,  and 
shrouded  the  dawn  of  the  Revolution  in  dismay.  He  was  thus, 
by  the  force  of  circumstances,  a  pioneer ;  he  was  obliged  to  create 
precedents,  and  has  been  justly  commended  as  the  master  of  *'  a 
higher  art  than  making  war,  the  art  to  control  and  direct  it,"  and 
as  a  proficient  in  those  victories  of  "  peace  no  less  renowned  than 
2 


14  THEPATRIOT. 

war,"  which,  as  Fisher  Ames  declared,    "  changed  mankind's 
ideas  of  political  greatness." 

What,  we  are  continually  impelled  to  ask,  were  the  grounds 
of  hope,  the  resources  of  trust  and  patience,  which,  at  such  crises, 
and  more  especially  during  the  early  discouragements  of  the 
struggle,  buoyed  up  and  sustained  that  heroic  equanimity,  which 
excited  the  wonder,  and  finally  won  the  confidence,  of  the  people? 
First  of  all,  a  settled  conviction  of  the  justice  of  his  cause  and  the 
favor  of  God;  then  a  belief,  not  carelessly  adopted,  that,  if  he 
avoided  as  long  as  possible  a  general  action,  by  well-arranged 
defences  and  retreats,  opportunities  would  occur  when  the  enemy 
could  be  taken  at  disadvantage,  and  by  judicious  surprises  gradu- 
ally worn  out  and  vanquished.  Proof  was  not  wanting  of  a  true 
patriotic  enthusiasm, —  unorganized,  indeed,  and  impulsive,  yet 
real,  and  capable,  by  the  prestige  of  success  or  the  magnetism  of 
example,  of  being  aroused  and  consolidated  into  invincible  vigor. 
Scattered  among  the  lukewarm  and  the  inexperienced  friends  of 
the  cause  were  a  few  magnanimous  and  self-devoted  men,  pledged 
irretrievably  to  its  support,  and  ready  to  sacrifice  life,  and  all 
that  makes  life  dear,  in  its  behalf  Greene  and  Putnam,  Knox 
and  Schuyler,  Robert  Morris  and  Alexander  Hamilton,  were 
names  of  good  cheer,  and  reliable  watchwords  in  the  field  and  the 
council ;  Franklin  and  Adams  were  representatives  of  national 
sentiment  rarely  equalled  in  wisdom  and  intrepidity ;  the  legisla- 
tive body,  whence  his  authority  was  derived,  more  and  more 
strengthened  his  hands  and  recognized  his  ability ;  the  undisci- 
plined New  Englanders  hollowed  a  trench  and  heaped  a  mound 
with  marvellous  celerity  and  good-will;  bushfighters  from  the 
South  handled  the  rifle  with  unequalled  skill;  a  remarkable 
inactivity  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  indicated  their  ignorance  of 
the  real  condition  of  the  American  army ;  and  last,  though  not 
least,  experience  soon  proved  that,  however  superior  in  a  pitched 
battle,  the  regular  troops  were  no  match  for  militia  in  retrieving 
defeat  and  disaster.  The  marvellous  siege  of  Boston,  the  masterly 
retreat  from  Brooklyn  Heights,  the  success  at  Sullivan's  Island, 
and  the  capture  of  the  Hessians  at  Trenton,  made  it  apparent 
that  vigilant  sagacity  and  well-timed  bravery  are  no  inadequate 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  15 

compensation  for  the  lack  of  material  resources  and  a  disciplined 
force. 

Everything  combines,  in  the  events  of  the  war  and  the  charac- 
ter of  the  man,  to  deepen  moral  interest  and  extinguish  dramatic 
effect.  In  the  absence  of  "  the  pomp  and  circumstance  '*  of  war, 
and  the  latent  meaning  and  grand  results  involved,  the  chronicle 
differs  from  all  other  military  and  civil  annals.  The  "  lucky 
blows  "  and  "  levies  of  husbandmen,"  the  poorly  clad  and  gro- 
tesquely armed  patriots,  were  as  deficient  in  brilliancy  of  tactics 
and  picturesque  scenes,  as  was  the  bearing  and  aspect  of  their 
leader  in  the  dashing  and  showy  attractions  of  soldiership. 
"  His  eyes  have  no  fire,"  says  the  Hessian's  letter.  An  adept 
in  the  school  of  Frederic  could  find  scarcely  a  trace  of  the  perfect 
drill  and  astute  combinations  which  were,  in  his  view,  the  only 
guaranties  of  success  in  battle.  The  arrogant  confidence  of 
Marlborough,  the  inspired  manoeuvres  of  Napoleon,  ordered  with 
the  rapidity  of  intuition  beside  a  camp-fire  and  between  pinches 
of  snuff,  the  theatrical  charge  of  Murat,  the  cool  bravery  of  Wil- 
liam of  Orange, —  all  that  is  effective  and  romantic  in  our  asso- 
ciations with  military  heroism  gives  place  in  this  record  to  the 
most  stern  and  least  illusive  realities.  The  actors  are  men  tem- 
porarily drawn  from  their  ordinary  pursuits  by  a  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm which  displays  itself  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  way.  The 
only  sublimity  that  attends  them  is  derived  from  the  great  interest 
at  stake,  and  the  deliberate  self-devotion  exhibited.  Patience  far 
beyond  action,  caution  rather  than  enterprise,  faith  more  than 
emulation,  are  the  virtues  demanded.  What  of  poetry  lies  hidden 
in  the  possibilities  of  achievement  is  solemn  rather  than  chivalric ; 
endurance  is  the  test,  perseverance  the  grand  requisite,  indomit- 
able spirit  the  one  thing  needful ;  and  in  these  conditions,  the 
restless,  ambitious,  and  mercenary,  who  form  the  staple  of  armies, 
can  find  little  scope  or  encouragement.  It  is  neither  the  land  nor 
the  era  for  laurel  crowns  and  classic  odes,  for  orders  and  patents 
of  nobility.  If  the  volunteer  falls,  his  only  consolation  is  that 
he  fills  a  patriot's  grave,  while  some  rude  ballad  may  commemo- 
rate the  victim,  and  the  next  Thanksgiving  sermon  of  the  pastor 
of  his  native  hamlet  may  attest  his  worth.  If  he  survives,  a 
grant  of  land,  where  land  is  almost  worthless,  and  an  approving 


16  THEPATRIOT. 

resolution  of  Congress,  are  the  only  prizes  in  store  for  him, — 
save  that  greatest  of  all,  the  consciousness  of  having  faithfully 
served  his  country. 

The  tableaux  of  Washington's  life,  however  inadequately 
represented  as  yet  in  art,  are  too  familiar  to  afford  room  for 
novel  delineation  to  his  biographer ;  and  they  differ  from  the 
prominent  and  dramatic  events  in  other  lives  of  warriors  and 
statesmen  in  a  latent  significance  and  a  prophetic  interest  that 
appeal  to  the  heart  more  than  to  the  eye.  When  we  see  the 
pyramids  looming  in  the  background  of  Vernet's  canvas,  the 
imagination  is  kindled  by  the  association  of  Napoleon's  victories 
with  the  mystical  and  far-away  Egyptian  land ;  but  the  idea  of 
a  successful  hero,  in  the  usual  meaning  of  the  term,  of  a  distant 
campaign,  of  the  spread  of  dominion,  is  dwarfed  before  the  more 
sublime  idea  of  a  nation's  birth,  a  vindication  of  inalienable 
human  rights,  a  consistent  assertion  of  civil  freedom  and  the  over- 
throw of  tyranny,  suggested  by  the  successive  portraits  so  dear 
to  the  American  heart ;  —  first,  the  surveyor  guiding  his  fragile 
raft  over  the  turbulent  Alleghany;  then  the  intrepid  aide-de- 
camp^ rallying  the  fugitive  army  of  Braddock  ;  next  the  digni- 
fied commander,  drawing  the  sword  of  freedom  under  the  majestic 
shadow  of  the  Cambridge  elm  ;  the  bafiled  but  undismayed  leader, 
erect  in  the  boat  which  shivers  amid  the  floating  ice  of  the 
Delaware,  his  calm  eye  fired  with  a  bold  and  sagacious  purpose  ; 
cheering  his  famished  and  ragged  men  in  the  wintry  desolation 
of  Valley  Forge;  then  receiving  the  final  surrender  of  the 
enemies  of  his  country ;  in  triumphal  progress  through  a  redeemed 
and  rejoicing  land ;  taking  the  oath  as  first  President  of  the 
Republic ;  breathing  his  farewell  blessings  and  monitions  to  his 
countrymen ;  dispensing,  in  peaceful  retirement,  the  hospitalities 
of  Mount  Vernon ;  and  at  last  followed  to  the  tomb  with  the 
tearful  benedictions  of  humanity  !  It  is  the  absolute  meaning, 
the  wide  scope,  the  glorious  issue,  and  not  the  mere  pictorial 
efiect,  that  absorbs  the  mind  intent  on  these  historical  pictures. 
They  foreshadow  and  retrace  a  limitless  perspective,  fraught  with 
the  welfare,  not  only  of  our  country,  but  of  our  race.  In  com- 
parison with  them,  more  dazzling  and  gorgeous  illustrations  of 
the  life  of  nations  are  as  evanescent  in  effect  as  the  mirage  that 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  17 

paints  its  dissolving  views  on  the  horizon,  or  as  a  pyrotechnic  glare 
beside  the  stars  of  the  firmament. 

As  we  ponder  the  latest  record  of  his  life,*  its  method  and 
luminous  order  excite  a  new  conviction  of  the  wonderful  adapta- 
tion of  the  man  to  the  exigency ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  great  mer- 
its of  the  work  that  this  impressive  truth  is  more  distinctly 
revealed  by  its  pages  than  ever  before.  Not  a  trait  of  character 
but  has  especial  reference  to  some  emergency.  The  very  faults 
of  manner,  as  crude  observers  designate  them,  contribute  to  the 
influence,  and  thereby  to  the  success,  of  the  commander-in-chief. 
A  man  of  sterner  ambition  would  have  risked  all  on  some  des- 
perate encounter ;  a  man  of  less  self-respect  would  have  perilled 
his  authority,  where  mihtary  discipline  was  so  imperfect,  in 
attempts  at  conciliation ;  a  man  of  less  solid  and  more  speculative 
mind  would  have  compromised  his  prospects  by  inconsiderate 
arrangements ;  one  less  disinterested  would  have  abandoned  the 
cause  from  wounded  self-love,  and  one  less  firm,  from  impatience 
and  dismay;  one  whose  life  and  motives  could  not  bear  the 
strictest  scrutiny  would  soon  have  forfeited  confidence ;  and 
moral  consistency  and  elevation  could  alone  have  fused  the  dis- 
cordant elements  and  concentrated  the  divided  spirit  of  the  people. 
Above  all,  the  felicitous  balance  of  qualities,  through  a  modera- 
tion almost  superhuman,  and  never  before  so  essential  to  the 
welfare  of  a  cause,  stamped  the  man  for  the  mission.  Not  more 
obviously  was  the  character  of  Moses  adapted  to  the  office  of 
primeval  lawgiver  for  the  chosen  people, — not  more  clearly  do  the 
endowments  of  Dante  signalize  him  as  the  poet  ordained  to  bridge 
with  undying  song  the  chasm  which  separates  the  Middle  Age 
from  modern  civilization,  than  the  mind,  the  manner,  the  disposi- 
tion, the  physical  and  spiritual  gifts,  and  the  principles  of 
Washington  proclaimed  him  the  Heaven-appointed  chief,  magis- 
trate, man  of  America.  In  the  very  calmness  and  good  sense, 
the  practical  tone  and  moderate  views,  which  make  him  such  a 
contrast  to  the  world's  heroes,  do  we  behold  the  evidence  of  this. 
What  does  he  proclaim  as  the  reward  of  victory  ?  "  The  oppor- 
tunity to  become  a  respectable  nation."     Upon  what  is  based  his 

*  Irving's  Life  of  Washington. 

2* 


18  T  II  E      P  A  T  R  I  0  T  . 

expectation  of  success  ?  "I  believe,  or  at  least  I  hope,  that  there 
is  public  virtue  enough  left  among  us  to  deny  ourselves  every- 
thing but  the  bare  necessaries  of  life  to  accomplish  this  end." 
What  are  his  private  resources?  *•  As  I  have  found  no  better 
guide  hitherto  than  upright  intentions  and  close  investigations,  I 
shall  adhere  to  those  maxims  while  I  keep  the  watch."  This 
moderation  has  been  fitly  called  persuasive^  and  this  well-regu- 
lated mind  justly  declared  "born  for  command."  His  reserve, 
too,  was  essential  in  such  an  anomalous  condition  of  social  aifaiis. 
Self-respect  is  the  keystone  of  the  arch  of  character ;  and  it  kept 
his  character  before  the  army  and  the  people,  his  brother  ofiiccrs 
and  his  secret  foes,  the  country  and  the  enemy,  firm,  lofty, 
unassailable,  free,  authoritative, —  like  a  planet,  a  mountain,  a 
rock,  one  of  the  immutable  facts  of  nature, —  a  Pharos  to  guide, 
a  sublimity  to  awe,  and  an  object  of  unsullied  beauty  to  win  by 
the  force  of  spontaneous  attraction.  It  is  his  distinction  among 
national  leaders,  as  has  been  well  said  by  our  foremost  ethical 
writer,  to  have  been  "  the  centre  of  an  enlightened  people's  con- 
fidence." Tlie  nature  of  the  feeling  he  inspired  among  the 
troops  may  be  inferred  from  the  expression  in  a  letter  from  the 
camp  at  White  Plains,  preserved  in  a  gazette  of  the  times  : 
"Everything  looks  very  favorable;  a  fine  army  of  at  least 
twenty  thousand  men  in  remarkably  good  health  and  spirits, 
co7ismnmate  tcisdonij  centred  in  a  Washint/loJi^  to  direct  them, 
and  a  determined  spirit  with  the  whole  body  to  die  or  carry  our 
purpose  into  effect."  His  relation  was  obviously  representative; 
he  incarnated  the  highest  existent  patriotism.  His  wisdom,  not 
his  genius,  is  thus  recognized  as  the  grand  qualification.  His  own 
remark  concerning  Hamilton  is  singularly  applicable  to  himself, — 
"  His  judgment  was  intuitively  great ; "  and  this  was  the  intel- 
lectual endowment  which  justified  to  the  good  sense  of  the  people 
the  confidence  which  his  integrity  confirmed. 

Another  secret  cause  of  this  remarkable  personal  influence  was 
•self-restraint.  There  is  no  law  of  nature  more  subtle  and  pro- 
found than  that  whereby  latent  power  is  generated.  The  silent 
weight  of  the  distant  lake  sends  up  the  lofty  jet  of  the  fountain ; 
and  the  clouds  are  fed  by  innumerable  particles  of  aeriform 
moisture.     The  electric  force  generated  amid  the  balmy  quietude 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  19 

of  the  summer  noon,  the  avalanche  slowly  conglomerated  from 
the  downy  snow-flakes,  the  universal  process  of  vegetation,  the 
vast  equilibrium  of  gravity,  the  irresistible  encroachment  of  the 
tide,  and  all  broad  and  grand  effects  in  the  universe,  are  the 
reverse  of  violent,  ostentatious,  and  fitful.  By  gradual  develop- 
ment, harmonized  activity,  regular  and  progressive  transitions, 
are  enacted  the  most  comprehensive  functions  of  the  physical 
world.  A  similar  law  obtains  in  character.  The  most  expressive 
phi*ases  in  literature  are  the  least  rhetorical ;  the  noblest  acts  in 
history  are  performed  w^ith  the  least  mystery  ;  true  greatness  is 
unconscious;  "  life,"  says  the  wise  German,  "  begins  with  renun- 
ciation ; "  silence  is  often  more  significant  than  speech ;  the  eye 
of  afiection  utters  more  with  a  glance  than  the  most  eloquent 
tongue ;  passion,  curbed,  becomes  a  motive  force  of  incalculable 
energy ;  and  feeling,  subdued,  penetrates  the  soul  with  a  calm 
authority  and  the  manner  with  an  irresistible  magnetism.  Our 
instinct  divines  what  is  thus  kept  in  abeyance  by  will  with  a  pro- 
founder  insight  than  the  most  emphatic  exhibition  could  bring 
home  through  the  senses.  The  true  artist  is  conscious  of  this 
principle,  and  ever  strives  to  hint  to  the  imagination  rather  than 
to  display  before  the  eye.  The  poet,  aware  by  intuition  of  this 
law,  gives  the  clew,  the  composer  the  key-note,  the  philosopher 
the  germinal  idea,  rather  than  a  full  and  palpable  exposition. 
In  the  moral  world  latent  agencies  are  the  most  vital.  If 
"Washington  had  been  the  cold,  impassive  man  those  whom  he 
treated  objectively  declared  him  to  be,  he  could  not  have  exer- 
cised the  personal  influence  which,  both  in  degree  and  in  kind, 
has  never  been  paralleled  by  merely  human  qualities.  It  was 
not  to  the  correct  and  faithful  yet  insensible  hero  that  men  thus 
gave  their  veneration,  but  to  one  whose  heart  was  as  large  and 
tender  as  his  mind  was  sagacious  and  his  will  firm ;  the  study 
of  whose  life  it  was  to  control  emotion ;  to  whom  reserve  was  the 
habit  inspired  by  a  sublime  prudence  ;  whose  career  was  one  of 
action,  and  over  whose  conscience  brooded  an  ever-present  sense 
of  responsibility  to  God  and  man,  to  his  country  and  his  race, 
which  encircled  his  anxious  brow  with  the  halo  of  a  prophet 
rather  than  the  laurel  of  a  victor.  He  who  knelt  in  tears  by 
the  death-bed  of  hia   step-daughter,   who  wrung  his  hands  in 


20  THEPATRIOT. 

anguish  to  behold  the  vain  sacrifice  of  his  soldiers,  who  threw  his 
hat  on  the  ground  in  mortification  at  their  cowardly  retreat,  w^hose 
face  was  mantled  with  blushes  when  he  attempted  to  reply  to  a 
vote  of  thanks,  whose  lips  quivered  when  obliged  to  say  fare\Yell 
to  his  companions  in  arms,  who  embraced  a  brothef  officer  in  the 
transports  of  victory,  and  trembled  with  indignation  when  he  ral- 
lied the  troops  of  a  faithless  subaltern,  —  he  could  have  preserved 
outward  calmness  only  by  inward  conflict,  and  only  by  the  self- 
imposed  restraint  of  passion  have  exercised  the  authority  of  prin- 
ciple. "When  the  cares  of  public  duty  were  over,  and  the  claims 
of  official  dignity  satisfied,  the  affability  of  Washington  was  as 
conspicuous  as  his  self-respect,  his  common  sense  and  humane 
sentiments  as  obvious  as  his  modesty  and  his  heroism.  The  vis- 
itors at  Mount  Vernon,  many  of  whom  have  recorded  their 
impressions,  included  a  singular  variety  of  characters,  from  the 
courtier  of  Versailles  to  the  farmer  of  New  England,  from  the 
English  officer  to  the  Italian  artist ;  and  it  is  remarkable,  that, 
various  as  are  the  terms  in  which  they  describe  the  illustrious 
host,  a  perfect  identity  in  the  portrait  is  obvious.  They  all  cor- 
respond with  the  description  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall :  — 

"His  exterior  created  in  the  beholder  the  idea  of  strength, 
united  with  manly  gracefulness.  His  person  and  whole  deport- 
ment exhibited  an  unaffected  and  indescribable  dignity,  mingled 
with  haughtiness,  of  which  all  who  approached  him  were  sensi- 
ble ;  and  the  attachment  of  those  who  possessed  his  friendship 
and  enjoyed  his  intimacy  was  ardent,  but  always  respectful.  His 
temper  was  humane,  benevolent,  and  conciliatory ;  but  there  was 
a  quickness  in  his  sensibility  to  anything  apparently  offensive, 
which  experience  had  taught  him  to  correct." 

To  a  reflective  mind  there  is  something  pathetic  in  the  gravity 
so  often  noticed  as  a  defect  in  Washington.  It  foreshadowed,  in 
his  youth,  the  great  work  before  him,  and  it  testified,  in  his  man- 
hood, to  his  deep  sense  of  its  obligations.  It  betokened  that  ear- 
nestness of  purpose  wherein  alone  rested  the  certainty  of  eventual 
success.  It  was  the  solemnity  of  thought  and  of  conscience,  and 
assured  the  people  that,  aware  of  being  the  central  point  of  their 
faith,  the  expositor  of  their  noblest  and  best  desires,  the  high- 
priest  of  inational  duty,  it  was  not  with  the  complacency  of  a 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  21 

proud,  or  the  excitement  of  a  vain,  but  with  the  awe  of  a  thor- 
oughly wise  and  honest  man,  that  he  felt  the  mighty  trust  and 
the  perilous  distinction.  Let  it  never  be  forgotten  that  it  was  his 
task  to  establish  a  grand  precedent,  untried,  unheralded,  unfore- 
seen in  the  world.  Such  experiments,  in  all  spheres  of  labor  and 
of  study,  lead  the  most  vivacious  men  to  think.  In  science,  in 
art,  and  in  philosophy,  they  breed  pale  and  serious  votaries. 
Such  an  ordeal  chastened  the  ardent  temper  of  Luther,  knit  the 
brow  of  Michael  Angelo  with  furrows,  and  unnerved  the  frame 
of  the  starry  Galileo.  It  is  but  a  pledge  of  reality,  of  self-devo- 
tion, of  intrepid  will,  therefore,  that,  with  a  long  and  arduous 
struggle  for  national  life  to  guide  and  inspire,  and  the  foundations 
of  a  new  constitutional  republic  to  lay,  the  chief  and  the  states- 
man should  cease  even  to  smile,  and  grow  pensive  and  stern  in 
the  face  of  so  vast  an  enterprise,  and  under  the  weight  of  such 
measureless  responsibilities. 

The  world  has  yet  to  understand  the  intellectual  efficiency 
derived  from  moral  qualities,  —  how  the  candor  of  an  honest  and 
the  clearness  of  an  unpcrverted  mind  attain  results  beyond  the 
reach  of  mere  intelligence  and  adroitness,  —  how  conscious  integ- 
rity gives  both  insight  and  directness  to  mental  operations,  and 
elevation  above  the  plane  of  selfish  motives  affords  a  more  com- 
prehensive, and  therefore  a  more  reliable  view  of  affairs,  than  the 
keenest  examination  based  exclusively  on  personal  ability.  It 
becomes  apparent,  when  illustrated  by  a  life  and  its  results,  that 
the  cunning  of  a  Talleyrand,  the  military  genius  of  a  Napoleon, 
the  fascinating  qualities  of  a  Fox,  and  other  similar  endowments 
of  statesmen  and  soldiers,  are  essentially  limited  and  temporary 
in  their  influence ;  whereas  a  good  average  intellect,  sublimated  by 
self-forgetting  intrepidity,  allies  itself  forever  to  the  central  and 
permanent  interests  of  humanity.  The  mind  of  Washington  was 
eminently  practical ;  his  perceptive  faculties  were  strongly  devel- 
oped; the  sense  of  beauty  and  the  power  of  expression,  those 
endowments  so  large  in  the  scholar  and  the  poet,  were  the  least 
active  in  his  nature ;  but  the  observant  powers  whereby  space  is 
measured  at  a  glance,  and  the  physical  qualities  noted  correctly, 
—  the  reflective  instincts  through  which  just  ideas  of  facts  and 
circumstances  are  realized,  —  the  sentiment  of  order  which  regu- 


22  TIIEPATRIOT. 

lates  the  most  chaotic  elements  of  duty  and  work,  thus  securing 
despatch  and  precision,  —  the  openness  to  right  impressions  char- 
acteristic of  an  intellect,  over  which  the  visionary  tendencies  of 
imagination  cast  no  delusion,  and  whose  chief  affinity  is  for  abso- 
lute truth,  — these  noble  and  efficient  qualities  eminently  distin- 
guished his  mental  organization,  and  were  exhibited  as  its  normal 
traits  from  childhood  to  age.  To  them  we  refer  his  prescience  in 
regard  to  the  agricultural  promise  of  wild  tracts,  the  future 
growth  of  localities,  the  improvement  of  estates,  the  facilities  of 
communication,  the  adaptation  of  soils,  and  other  branches  of  eco- 
nomics. ]Jy  means  of  them  he  read  character  with  extraordinary 
success.  They  led  him  to  methodize  his  life  and  labors,  to  plan 
with  wisdom  and  execute  with  judgment,  to  use  the  most  appro- 
priate terms  in  conversation  and  writing,  to  keep  the  most  exact 
accounts,  to  seek  useful  information  from  every  source,  to  weigh 
prudently  and  decide  firmly,  to  measure  his  words  and  manner 
with  singular  adaptation  to  the  company  and  the  occasion,  to  keep 
tranquil  within  his  own  brain  perplexities,  doubts,  projects,  anxi- 
eties, cares,  and  hopes  enough  to  bewilder  the  most  capacious 
intellect  and  to  sink  the  boldest  heart.  His  mental  features  beam 
through  his  correspondence.  We  say  this  advisedly,  notwith- 
standing the  formal  and  apparently  cold  tenor  of  many  of  his  let- 
ters ;  for  so  grand  is  the  sincerity  of  purpose,  so  magnanimous 
the  spirit,  so  patient,  reverent,  and  devoted  the  sentiment  under- 
lying these  brief  and  unadorned  epistles,  whether  of  business  or 
courtesy,  that  a  moral  glow  interfuses  their  plain  and  direct  lan- 
guage, often  noble  enough  to  awaken  a  thrill  of  admiration, 
together  with  a  latent  pathos  that  starts  tears  in  the  reader  of 
true  sensibility.  The  unconsciousness  of  self,  the  consideration 
for  others,  the  moderation  in  success,  the  calmness  in  disaster,  the 
singleness  of  purpose,  the  heroic  self-reliance,  the  immaculate 
patriotism,  the  sense  of  God  and  humanity,  the  wise,  fearless, 
truthful  soul  that  is  thus  revealed,  in  self-possessed  energy  in  the 
midst  of  the  heaviest  responsibilities  that  ever  pressed  on  mortal 
heart,  with  the  highest  earthly  good  in  view,  and  the  most  com- 
plicated obstacles  around,  serene,  baffled,  yet  never  ^overcome, 
and  never  oblivious  of  self-respect  or  neglectful  of  the  minutest 
details  of  official  and  personal  duty,  — is  manifest  to  our  conscious- 


GEORGE     WASHINGTON.  23 

ness  as  -we  read,  and  we  seem  to  behold  the  benign  and  dignified 
countenance  of  the  writer  through  the  transparent  medium  of  his 
unpretending  letters.  Compare,  as  illustrations  of  character,  the 
authenticity  of  which  is  beyond  dispute,  the  correspondence  of 
"Washington  and  that  between  Napoleon  and  his  brother  Joseph, 
recently  published  at  Paris.  All  the  romance  of  spurious  me- 
moirs, all  the  dazzling  prestige  of  military  genius,  fails  to  obviate 
the  impression  the  emperor's  own  pen  convoys,  in  the  honest 
utterance  of  fraternal  correspondence,  of  his  obtuse  egotism,  arro- 
gant self-will,  and  heartless  ambition.  In  Washington's  letters, 
whether  expostulating,  in  the  name  of  our  common  humanity, 
with  Gage,  striving  to  reconcile  Schuyler  to  the  mortifications  of 
a  service  he  threatened  to  quit  in  disgust,  freely  describing  his 
own  trials  to  Reed,  pleading  with  Congress  for  supplies,  directing 
the  management  of  his  estjite  from  amid  the  gloomy  cares  of  the 
camp,  acknowledging  a  gift  from  some  foreign  nobleman,  or  a 
copy  of  verses  from  poor  Phillis  Wheatley,  the  same  perspicuity 
and  propriety,  wisdom  and  kindliness,  self-respect  and  remem- 
brance of  every  personal  obligation,  arc  obvious. 

The  eloquent  biographer  of  Goethe  has  aptly  compared  the 
agency  of  strong  passions  to  the  torrents  which  leave  ribs  of 
granite  to  mark  their  impetuous  course,  and  significantly  adds : 
"There  are  no  whirlpools  in  shallows."  How  much  nobler  the 
sustaining  and  concentrativc  result  of  these  turbulent  elements 
becomes  when  they  are  governed  and  guided  by  will  and  conscience, 
the  character  of  Washington  singularly  illustrates;  and  "passion, 
when  in  a  state  of  solemn  and  omnipotent  vehemence,  always  ap- 
pears to  be  calmness."  These  considerations  enable  us  to  reconcile 
what  is  apparently  incongi'uous  in  the  reports  of  different  observ- 
ers who  have  attempted  to  describe  Washington's  manner,  aspect, 
and  disposition.  Thus  we  are  told  by  one  of  his  intimate  compan- 
ions, that  he  was  "more  free  and  open  in  liis  behavior  at  levee 
than  in  private,  and  in  the  company  of  ladies  than  when  solely 
with  men ;  "  and  by  another,  that  "  hard,  important,  and  labori- 
ous service  had  given  a  kind  of  austerity  to  his  countenance  and 
reserve  to  his  manner,  yet  he  was  the  kindest  of  husbands,  the 
most  humane  of  masters,  the  steadiest  of  friends."  One  speaks 
of  his  large  hand,  the  token  of  practical  efficiency ;  one,  of  his 


24  THEPATRIOT. 

personal  attention  to  an  invited  guest ;  one,  of  his  sagacious 
observations,  in  travelling,  upon  the  facilities  for  internal  commu- 
nication or  agriculture,  suggested  by  the  face  of  the  country ;  and 
another,  of  his  avoidance  of  personal  subjects  in  conversation. 
But,  in  our  view,  some  of  the  most  striking  tributes  to  the  gradual 
but  absolute  recognition  of  his  character  are  to  be  found  in  the 
contemporary  public  journals.  Thus  a  London  paper  of  Febru- 
ary, 1784,  says :  "  His  circular  letter  to  the  army  was  read  at  a 
coffee-house  not  very  distant  from  the  Royal  Exchange ;  every 
hearer  was  full  of  the  w^riter's  praises ;  in  composition  it  was  said 
to  be  equal  to  anything  of  ancient  or  modern  date."  Subse- 
quently, another  popular  English  journal  holds  this  language : 
"  Whenever  the  shock  of  accident  shall  have  so  far  operated  on 
the  policy  of  America  as  to  have  systematized  and  settled  her 
government,  it  is  obvious  that  the  dictator,  protector,  stadtholder, 
or  by  whatever  name  the  chief  magistrate  so  appointed  shall  be 
called,  will  be  General  Washington."  His  retirement  established 
the  purity  of  his  motives ;  and  a  Dublin  print,  dated  the  same 
year  with  our  first  extract,  said  :  — 

"There  are  few  so  blinded  by  prejudice,  as  to  deny  such  a 
degree  of  merit  to  the  American  general  as  to  place  him  in  a  very 
distinguished  point  of  view ;  but  even  those  who  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  view  him  as  the  most  illustrious  character  of  this  or  any 
other  age,  will  be  astonished  by  the  following  instance  of  his 
integrity,  which  we  give  from  the  most  unquestionable  authority. 
When  General  Washington  accepted  the  command  of  the  Ameri- 
can army,  he  rejected  all  pecuniary  reward  or  pay  Avhatever,  and 
only  stipulated  for  the  reimbursement  of  such  sums  sis  he  might 
expend  in  the  public  service.  Accordingly,  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  war,  he  gave  in  to  Congress  the  whole  of  his  seven  yeaiV 
expenditure,  which  only  amounted  to  sixteen  thousand  pounds 
Pennsylvania  currency,  or  ten  thousand  pounds  sterling.  In  the 
eyes  of  our  modern  British  generals  the  above  circumstance  will 
appear  totally  incredible ;  at  least,  they  will  deem  Mr.  Washing- 
ton little  better  than  a  fool ;  for,  if  we  judge  from  certain 
accounts,  ten  thousand  pounds  would  scarcely  have  answered 
the  demands  of  a  commander-in-chief  at  New  York  a  single 
month." 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  25 

These  items,  taken  at  random  from  the  newspapers  of  his  day, 
serve  to  make  us  understand  how  the  man  whose  cautious  gen- 
eralship provoked  the  ridicule  of  Lord  Howe's  soldiers  at  the 
opening  of  the  war,  and  whose  firmness  in  resisting  the  French 
alhance  awoke  a  storm  of  detraction  from  the  Jeffersonian  democ- 
racy at  a  later  period,  lived  down  aspersion,  and  became,  by  the 
evidence  of  facts,  the  acknowledged  exemplar  of  human  worth  and 
wisdom  described  by  his  last  and  best  biographer. 

His  moral  serenity,  keeping  reflection  intact  and  forethought 
vigilant,  is  nobly  manifest  in  the  deliberate  process  through 
which,  by  gradual  and  tberefore  earnest  conviction,  he  came  to  a 
decision  when  the  difficulties  between  the  mother  country  and  her 
colonies  were  pending.  Not  one  of  the  leading  patriots  of  the 
Revolution  ranged  himself  under  its  banner  with  more  conscien- 
tious and  rational  motives.  The  same  disposition  is  evident  in 
his  hesitation  to  accept  the  command,  from  that  self-distrust 
which  invariably  marks  a  great  and  therefore  modest  soul,  in  his 
subsequent  calmness  in  defeat  and  sobriety  in  victory,  in  the 
unexa;:cserated  view  he  took  of  the  means  and  his  disinterested 
view  of  the  ends  of  the  momentous  struggle,  in  the  humility  of 
spirit  with  which  he  assumed  the  reins  of  government  when 
called  to  do  so  by  the  popular  suffrage,  in  his  uniform  deference 
to  the  authority  of  all  representative  assemblies,  in  the  prescient 
warnings  of  his  parting  address,  in  the  unostentatious  and  simple 
habits  that  followed  him  into  retirement,  and  in  the  unfaltering 
trust  which  gave  dignity  to  his  last  hour.  This  normal  charac- 
teristic of  his  nature,  this  being  ever  "nobler  than  his  mood,"  is 
what  preeminently  distinguishes  him  from  the  galaxy  of  patriots, 
statesmen,  and  warriors,  whose  names  are  blazoned  in  history ;  for 
the  copious  rhetoric  of  modern  republicans,  the  fiery  and  yet 
often  compromised  pride  of  Paoli,  the  selfish  instincts  of  Marl- 
borough, the  heartless  ambition  of  Napoleon,  were  never  long 
concealed,  even  from  the  eye  kindled  with  admiration  at  their 
prowess.  Washington  seems  not  for  a  moment  to  have  forgotten 
his  responsibility  to  God  and  his  fellow-creatures ;  and  this  deep 
sentiment  permeated  his  whole  nature, — proof  against  all  excite- 
ment, illusion,  and  circumstance.  When  he  overheard  a  little 
boy  exclaim,  as  the  procession  in  his  honor  passed  through  the 


26  THEPATRIOT. 

streets,  ''Why,  father,  General  Washington  is  only  a  man!"  the 
illustrious  guest  paused  in  his  triumphal  march,  looked  with 
thoughtful  interest  on  the  child,  and,  patting  him  on  the  head, 
replied,  "That's  all,  my  little  fellow,  that's  all."  He  was, 
indeed,  one  of  the  few  heroes  who  never  forgot  his  humanity,  its 
relations,  obligations,  dependence,  and  destiny ;  and  herein  was 
at  once  his  safeguard  and  his  glory. 

These  facts  of  character  were  viewed  by  distant  and  illustrious 
men  in  relation  to  their  own  experience  ;  yet,  diverse  as  may  be 
the  inference  of  each,  a  like  feeling  of  admiration,  and  a  testi- 
mony equally  sincere  and  emphatic,  signalize  every  tribute  to  the 
unparalleled  and  inestimable  worth  of  Washington  in  the  annals 
of  humanity.  The  popular  statesman,  who  had  become  familiar 
with  the  deadly  aspersions  of  party  hatred,  wondered  that  so 
many  inimical  eyes  intent  upon  a  career  exposed  to  the  keenest 
personal  criticism  failed  to  discover  and  fix  one  stain  upon  the 
reputation  of  the  man,  the  statesman,  or  the  soldier.  This 
**'  excites  astonishment,"  said  Fox.  The  splendid  advocate,  who 
knew  how  the  spell  of  official  dignity  was  broken  to  the  vision  of 
those  near  the  sceptre  and  the  ermine,  recorded,  as  an  isolated 
fact  in  his  knowledge  of  mankind,  that  Washington  alone  inspired 
him  with  the  unmodified  sentiment  of  veneration.  '•  For  you 
only,"  writes  Erskine,  "  do  I  feel  an  awful  reverence."  The 
incident  of  his  career  which  impressed  the  most  renowned  soldier 
of  the  age  was  characteristic  at  once  of  the  limited  scope  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  military  genius.  The  bold  and  successful  passage 
of  the  Delaware,  and  the  surprise  of  the  Hessians,  awakened  in 
Frederic  of  Prussia  the  sympathy  and  high  appreciation  which  he 
manifested  by  the  gift  of  a  sword,  with  an  inscription  exclusively 
in  praise  of  Washington's  generalship.  The  moderation  of  his 
nature,  the  heroic  balance  of  soul,  whereby  elation  was  kept  in 
abeyance  in  the  hour  of  success,  not  less  nobly  than  despair  in 
the  day  of  misfortune,  attracted  the  French  philosopher,  habit- 
uated as  he  was  in  the  history  of  his  own  nation  to  the  association 
of  warlike  and  civic  fame  with  the  extremes  of  zeal  and  indiffer- 
ence, of  violence  and  caprice.  In  his  estimation,  the  good  sense 
and  moral  consistency  of  Washington  and  his  compatriots  natu- 
rally offered  the  most  remarkable  problem.     Accordingly,  Guizot 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  27 

bears  witness  chiefly  to  this  unprecedented  union  of  comprehen- 
sive designs  and  prudential  habits,  of  aspiration  and  patience,  in 
the  character  of  Washington,  and,  doubtless  through  the  contrast 
with  the  restless  ambition  which  marks  the  lives  of  his  own  illus- 
trious countrymen,  is  mainly  struck  with  the  fact,  that,  while 
"  capable  of  rising  to  the  level  of  the  highest  destiny,  he  might 
have  lived  in  ignorance  of  his  real  power  without  suffering  from 
it."  The  Italian  patriot,  obliged  to  vent  his  love  of  country  in 
terse  dramatic  colloquies  and  through  the  lips  of  dead  heroes,  is 
thrilled  with  the  grand  possibilities  of  action,  through  the  realiza- 
tion of  his  sentiments  by  achievement,  opened  to  Washington. 
''^Felice  voi,^^  exclaims  Alfieri,  in  his  dedication  of  Bruto  Primo 
to  the  republican  chief,  —  ^^felice  vol  che  alia  taiita  gloria  avete 
fotulo  dare  base  sublime  ed  etcrna^  —  Vamor  della  patria 
dimostrato  coi  fatti.'^  Even  the  poor  Indians,  so  often  cajoled 
out  of  their  rights  as  to  be  thoroughly  incredulous  of  good  faith 
among  the  pale-faces,  made  him  an  exception  to  their  rooted  dis- 
trust. "  The  white  men  are  bad,"  said  an  aboriginal  chief  in  his 
council  speech,  "  and  cannot  dwell  in  the  region  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  except  Washiiigtony  And  Lord  Brougham,  in  a  series 
of  analytical  biographies  of  the  renowned  men  of  the  last  and 
present  century,  which  indicate  a  deep  study  and  philosophical 
estimate  of  human  greatness,  closes  his  sketch  of  Washington 
by  the  emphatic  assertion,  that  the  test  of  the  progress  of  man- 
kind will  be  their  appreciation  of  his  character. 

Is  not  the  absence  of  brilliant  mental  qualities  one  of  the  chief 
benefactions  to  man  of  Washington's  example?  He  conspicu- 
ously illustrated  a  truth  in  the  philosophy  of  life,  often  appre- 
ciated in  the  domestic  circle  and  the  intimacies  of  private  society, 
but  rarely  in  history,  —  the  genius  of  character,  the  absolute 
efficiency  of  the  will  and  the  sentiments  independently  of  extraor- 
dinary intellectual  gifts.  Not  that  these  were  not  superior  also 
in  the  man  ;  but  it  was  through  their  alliance  with  moral  energy, 
and  not  by  virtue  of  any  transcendent  and  intrinsic  force  in  them- 
selves, that  he  was  great.  It  requires  no  analytical  insight  to 
distinguish  between  the  traits  which  insured  success  and  renown 
to  Washington,  and  those  whereby  Alexander,  Caesar,  and  Napo- 
leon, achieved  their  triumphs ;   and  it  is  precisely  because  the 


28  THE    PATRIOT. 

popular  heart  so  clearly  and  universally  beholds  in  the  American 
hero  the  simple  majesty  of  truth,  the  power  of  moral  consistency, 
the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  disinterestedness  and  magnanimity, 
that  his  name  and  fame  are  inexpressibly  dear  to  humanity. 
Never  before  nor  since  has  it  been  so  memorably  demonstrated 
that  unselfish  devotion  and  patient  self-respect  are  the  great 
reconciling  principles  of  civic  as  well  as  of  social  and  domestic 
life  ;  that  they  are  the  nucleus  around  which  all  the  elements  of 
national  integrity,  however  scattered  and  perverted,  inevitably 
crystallize  ;  that  men  thus  severely  true  to  themselves  and  duty 
become,  not  dazzling  meteors  to  lure  armies  to  victory,  nor  tri- 
umphant leaders  to  dazzle  and  win  mankind  to  the  superstitious 
abrogation  of  their  rights,  but  oracles  of  public  faith,  represent- 
atives of  what  is  highest  in  our  conunon  nature,  and  therefore  an 
authority  which  it  is  noble  and  ennobling  to  recognize.  The 
appellative  so  heartily,  and  by  common  instinct,  bestowed  upon 
"Washington,  is  a  striking  proof  of  this,  and  gives  a  deep  signifi- 
cance to  the  beautiful  idea,  that  "Providence  left  him  childless, 
that  his  country  might  call  him  —  Father." 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 

LORD   CHESTERFIELD. 


There  is  an  epithet,  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the  writings  of 
Philip  Dormer  Stanhope,  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  which  suggests 
the  nature  of  his  philosophy  of  life ;  it  is  the  word  shining^ 
which  he  applies  to  oratory,  character,  and  manners,  with  an 
obvious  relish.  We  have  the  greatest  faith  in  the  significance  of 
language,  especially  in  regard  to  the  habitual  use  of  certain 
adjectives  as  illustrative  of  individual  opinions,  temperament,  and 
disposition.  Brief  sentences  thickly  interspersed  with  the  first 
person  singular  form  a  style  indicative  of  egotism ;  dainty  verbal 
quibbles,  of  effeminacy ;  and  a  copious,  prolonged,  and  emphatic 
combination  of  words  seems  equally  native  to  a  full  and  earnest 
mind.  It  may  be  a  fanciful  idea,  — but  this  our  experience  fre- 
quently confirms,  —  that  the  constant  use  of  the  word  designating 
a  quality  is  an  instinctive  sign  of  its  predominance  in  character. 
Chesterfield's  ideal  of  excellence  was  essentially  superficial ;  for 
his  praise  of  solid  acquirement  and  genuine  principles  is  always 
coupled  with  the  assertion  of  their  entire  inutility  if  unaccom- 
panied by  grace,  external  polish,  and  an  agreeable  manifestation. 
He  omits  all  consideration  of  their  intrinsic  worth  and  absolute 
dignity  ;  their  value  to  the  individual,  according  to  him,  is  wholly 
proportioned  to  his  skill  in  using  them  in  a  social  form.  It  is 
seeming,  not  being,  he  extols  ;  rhetoric,  in  his  view,  far  transcends 
reflective  power ;  manners  have  more  to  do  with  human  welfare 
than  sentiment,  and  tact  achieves  more  satisfactory  conquests  than 
3* 


30  THE     MAN     OF     THE     WORLD. 

truth  ;  it  is  not  depth,  elevation,  or  extent,  the  permanent  qual- 
ities, but  those  of  a  temporary  kind,  that  belong  to  the  surface 
of  life,  upon  which  he  relies.  Accordingly,  to  shine  in  oratory, 
conversation,  and  behavior,  is  to  realize  the  highest  points  both 
of  nature  and  study  ;  the  casual  scintillation  of  reflected  light  is 
more  attractive  to  him,  because  more  dazzling  to  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  than  that  which  is  evolved  from  primal  and  indestructible 
sources. 

The  eulogy  of  his  biographer  has,  therefore,  a  literal  justice 
when  he  says  that  Chesterfield  was  one  of  the  most  shining  char- 
acters of  the  age.  Thus  we  might  be  content  that  it  should  pass 
in  a  mere  gallery  of  traditionary  portraits.  But  the  theory  upon 
which  it  was  based,  and  the  system  according  to  which  it  was 
formed,  have  been  elaborately  unfolded  by  Chesterfield  himself 
with  epistolary  art ;  and,  although  he  never  designed  publicly  to 
advocate  them,  yet  the  fact  that  his  letters  have  been  not  only 
for  many  years  a  manual  of  deportment,  his  name  a  synonym  for 
attractive  elegance,  and  his  writings,  within  a  short  time,  revised 
and  edited  by  an  English  historian,*  is  sufficieift  reason  for  apply- 
ing to  him,  and  the  school  he  proverbially  represents,  the  test  of 
that  impartial  scrutiny,  challenged  by  whatever  practically  acts 
upon  society,  and  exercises  more  or  less  prescriptive  influence. 
•Character  may  be  divided  into  two  great  classes  —  the  one  based 
upon  details,  and  the  other  upon  general  principle ;  and  all  his- 
tory, as  well  as  private  experience,  shows  that  elevated  harmony 
and  permanent  influence  belong  only  to  the  latter.  And  this  is 
true  of  the  various  foi-ms  as  well  as  the  essential  nature  of  char- 
acter. The  philosopher  differs  from  the  petit-maitre^  and  the 
poet  from  the  dilettante,  by  virtue  of  the  same  law  ;  the  view  of 
the  one  being  comprehensive,  and  the  other  minute.  In  art,  also, 
we  recognize  true  efficiency  only  where  general  effects  are  aptly 
seized  and  justly  embodied  ;  the  artist  of  mere  detail  ranks  only 
as  a  mechanician  in  form  and  color.  But  the  most  striking 
truth  involved  in  these  distinctions  is,  that  the  greater  includes 
the  less ;  the  man  of  great  general  principles  in  literature,  art, 
or  life,  is,  in  point  of  fact,  master  of  all  essential  details;  he 
combines  them  at  a  glance,  or,  rather,  they  insensibly  arrange 

Lord  Mahon. 


LORD     CHESTERFIELD.  31 

themselves  at  his  will ;  he  can  afford  to  let  them  take  care  of 
themselves.  The  great  sculptors  and  painters  busied  themselves 
only  about  the  design  and  finish  of  their  works,  for  intermediate 
details  were  wrought  by  their  pupils ;  and  if  the  overseer, 
whether  of  domestic  or  public  affairs,  establish  order  and  integ- 
rity as  the  principles  of  his  establishment,  he  need  not  give  his 
time  or  thoughts  to  the  minutise  of  finance. 

If  we  apply  this  principle  to  social  life,  the  sphere  which 
Chesterfield  regarded  as  the  most  important,  a  similar  result  is 
obvious.  No  one,  even  in  that  artificial  world  called  society, 
ever  achieved  a  satisfactory  triumph  by  exclusive  mastery  of 
details.  All  that  is  involved  in  the  term  manners  is  demonstra- 
tive, symbolic  —  the  sign  or  exponent  of  what  lies  behind,  and  is 
taken  for  granted;  and  only  when  this  outward  manifestation 
springs  from  an  inward  source  —  only  when  it  is  a  natural  pro- 
duct, and  not  a  graft  —  docs  it  sustain  !lny  real  significance. 
Hence  the  absurdity  of  the  experiment  of  Chesterfield  to  incul- 
Ciite  a  graceful  address  by  maxims,  and  secure  a  winsome  behavior 
by  formal  and  minute  directions ;  as  if  to  learn  how  to  enter  a 
room,  bow  well,  speak  agreeably  to  a  lady,  dispose  of  unoccupied 
hands,  and  go  inoffensively  through  the  other  external  details  of 
social  intercourse,  were  to  insure  the  realization  of  a  gentleman. 
That  character  —  as  it  was  understood  in  chivalry,  by  the  old 
English  dramatists,  and  according  to  the  intelligent  sentiment  of 
mankind  everywhere  —  is  as  much  the  product  of  nature  as  any 
other  species  of  human  development ;  art  modifies  only  its  tech- 
nical detiiils ;  its  spirit  comes  from  blood  more  than  breeding ; 
and  its  formula,  attached  by  prescription  to  the  body  without 
analogous  inspiration  of  the  soul,  is  as  awkward  and  inefficient  as 
would  be  proficiency  in  militiiry  tactics  to  a  coward,  or  vast  philo- 
logical acquisitions  to  an  idiot.  Yet  Chesterfield,  with  the  obsti- 
nacy that  belongs  to  the  artificial  race  of  men,  persisted  in  his 
faith  in  detail,  would  not  recognize  the  law  from  which  all  genuine 
social  power  is  elaborated,  and  apparently  lived  and  died  in  the 
belief  that  the  art  of  pleasing  was  the  great  interest  of  life,  and  an 
absolute  means  of  success  and  personal  happiness.  All  his  views, 
habits,  and  career,  were  impregnated  with  this  artificial  creed ; 
phrenologically  speaking,  he  was  an  incarnation  of  approbative- 


32  THE     MAN     OF     THE     WORLD. 

ness  ;  his  zest  of  life  came  through  this  his  predominant  organ ; 
and,  judging  from  consciousness,  he  believed  it  to  be  the  only  one 
in  others  which  could  be  universally  appealed  to.  Unblinded  by 
self-love,  he  had  but  to  reflect  upon  his  own  experience  to  real- 
ize the  fallacy  of  his  doctrine.  Everywhere,  and  always,  he 
consulted  explicitly  the  oracle  of  public  opinion,  and  conformed 
to  it  with  a  fanaticism  unworthy  his  intelligence.  He  confesses  to 
the  very  son  whom  he  strove  with  such  zeal  to  make  the  "glass 
of  fashion,"  that  in  college  he  was  an  absolute  pedant,  and 
thought  great  classical  knowledge  the  test  of  all  excellence;  that, 
emancipated  from  the  atmosphere  of  learning,  and  thrown  among 
young  men  of  fashion,  he  led  a  life  of  slavery  by  conforming  to 
habits  which  were  alien  not  only  to  his  constitution  and  tastes, 
but  even  to  his  desires :  and  that,  in  mature  years,  the  requisi- 
tions of  the  beau  monde  held  him  in  equal  vassalage ;  while  his 
old  age,  we  are  told,  "  was  cheerless  and  desolate." 

There  are  men  who  regard  the  artificial  as  a  necessary  evil  in 
social  life,  while  they  repudiate  it  altogether  elsewhere ;  but,  in 
the  case  of  Chesterfield,  it  was  deliberately  advocated  as  a  gen- 
eral principle  ;  it  influenced  not  only  his  theory  of  manners,  but 
his  literary  taste,  political  opinions,  and  entire  philosophy.  Thus 
he  laid  aside  the  Anglo-Saxon  direct  and  robust  temper,  and  gave 
in  so  completely  to  French  manners  and  superficiality,  that,  in 
Paris,  he  was  considered  one  of  themselves,  and  prides  himself 
upon  the  distinction.  In  literature,  the  only  branch  which  he 
thoroughly  appreciated  was  oratory,  and  that  chiefly  for  the 
rhetorical  artifice  to  which  it  gives  scope.  Not  as  a  noble  inspira- 
tion founded  on  loyalty  to  instinctive  sentiment,  or  urged  for  the 
cause  of  humanity,  but  as  an  elegant  accomplishment  whereby  to 
exercise  influence  and  gain  applause,  did  Chesterfield  cultivat*.' 
oratory.  It  seems  perfectly  natural  that  he  should  excel  in  its 
studied  graces,  and  equally  so  that  such  a  cold  virtuoso  as  Horace 
Walpole  should  have  preferred  him  to  Pitt.  It  is,  too,  not  less 
characteristic  of  such  a  man  that  he  should  choose  diplomacy  as 
a  profession.  Believing,  as  he  did,  only  in  elegance  and  cun- 
ning, in  politic  self-control,  veiled  with  agreeableness,  the 
"smooth  barbarity  of  courts"  was  admirably  fitted  at  once  to 
employ  his  ingenuity  and  gratify  his  refined  selfishness.     Thus 


LORD     CHESTERFIELD.  33 

devoid  of  earnestness  on  the  one  hand,  and  -wedded  to  artificial 
graces  on  the  other,  we  cannot  wonder  that,  in  his  view,  Dante, 
the  most  intensely  picturesque  of  poets,  could  not  think  clearly ; 
and  that  Petrarch,  the  beautiful  expositor  of  sentiment,  should 
appear  only  a  love-sick  rhymer  ;  nor  can  we  reasonably  feel  sur- 
prise that  he  quoted  Rochefoucault  and  Cardinal  dfe  Retz  with 
emphatic  respect,  while  he  could  be  only  facetious  in  his  allusions 
to  Milton  and  Tasso.  Macaulay,  in  alluding  to  Chesterfield's 
estimate  of  Marlborough  and  Cowper  (the  lawyer),  says:  "He 
constantly  and  systematically  attributed  the  success  of  the  moj?t 
eminent  persons  of  his  age  to  their  superiority,  not  in  solid  abil- 
ities and  acquirements,  but  in  superficial  graces  of  diction  and 
manner."  Among  the  books  he  most  cordially  recommends  his 
son,  are  a  treatise  on  the  Art  of  Pleasing,  and  the  "  Spectacle  du 
Nature" — the  very  titles  of  which  reveal  his  dominant  ideas; 
for  the  end  of  being,  in  his  opinion,  was  to  please,  at  what- 
ever sacrifice  of  honesty,  comfort,  or  truth  ;  and  nature  to  him 
was  but  a  spectacle,  as  life  itself  was  a  melodrama.  '  He  dis- 
trusted the  motives  of  Fenelon,  and  thought  Bolingbroke  admi- 
rable. Even  in  more  highly  prized  classical  attainments,  which 
wc  should  imagine  were  endeared  by  personal  taste,  the  same 
reference  to  external  motive  appears.  He  advises  the  study  of 
Greek  chiefly  because  it  is  a  less  common  acquisition  than  Latin ; 
and  the  translation  of  striking  passages  of  eloquence,  as  a  means 
of  forming  style,  and  storing  the  mind  with  desirable  quotations. 
Indeed,  in  his  view,  the  process  of  culture,  instead  of  an  end, 
was  a  means,  not  to  perfect  or  enrich  the  individual  character, 
but  to  obtain  the  requisites  of  social  advancement.  It  is  true  he 
includes  truth  as  essential  to  a  gentleman ;  but  this  was  the 
instinctive  sentiment  of  his  nation,  whose  manly  energy  and 
commercial  probity  alike  repudiate  falsehood.  In  accordance 
with  his  faith  in  the  details  of  outward  conduct,  and  obtusenesa 
to  the  influence  of  the  great  natural  laws  of  character  in  their 
social  agency,  Chesterfield  advocated  power  over  others  as  the 
lever  by  which  to  move  away  the  impediments  to  personal  suc^ 
cess  ;  not  that  legitimate  power  decreed  by  original  superiority, 
and  as  certain  in  the  end  to  regulate  society  as  gravitation  the 
planets ;    but  a  studious,  politic,  and  artificial  empire,  won  by 


34  THE    MAN    OF    THE    WORLD. 

dissimulation  and  attractiveness.  In  urging  this  favorite  theory 
upon  his  son,  he  seems  to  have  been  unconscious  of  the  painful 
discipline  involved  in  the  process,  the  long  and  weary  masquer- 
ade, and  the  incessant  danger  of  losing,  in  a  moment,  the  influence 
gained  by  months  of  sycophancy ;  neither  does  he  take  into  view 
the  wholly  unsatisfactory  and  untrustworthy  nature  of  the  rela- 
tions thus  established ;  and  he  fails  to  see  the  inevitable  result  of 
the  short-sighted  policy  of  detail,  in  the  temporary  sway  thus 
acquired ;  the  permanent  is  sacrificed  to  the  immediate,  and,  by 
addressing  the  most  insatiable  and  capricious  of  human  propensi- 
ties, his  system  entails  no*t  an  hour,  but  a  life,  of  social  fawning. 
He  recommends  the  study  of  character  in  order  to  discover  the 
mling  passion,  and  then  a  skilful  use  of  its  key-note  in  order  to 
play  upon  the  whole  for  private  benefit ;  forgetting  that,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  indignant  prince,  a  suspicion  of  such  base  friendship 
will  lead  to  scorn  and  rejection  :  "  Do  you  think  I  am  easier  to 
be  played  upon  than  a  pipe  ?" 

To  this  watchful  observation  he  would  have  united  a  power  to 
conceal  our  own  emotions  in  order  to  give  no  advantage  to  our 
companion,  and  a  facility  in  appealing  to  self-love  as  the  best 
means  of  throwing  him  off  his  guard.  The  temper,  the  opin- 
ions, the  tastes,  and  even  the  most  gentle  and  noble  sentiments, 
are  to  be  kept  in  uniform  abeyance  ;  self-possession  and  adroit 
flattery  are  the  two  great  requisites,  in  his  view,  for  success  in 
life ;  distrust  of  others,  the  guarantee  of  personal  safety  ;  and  the 
art  of  pleasing,  the  science  of  the  world.  History,  philosophy, 
and  the  prevailing  instincts  of  enlightened  humanity,  teach 
another  lesson.  These  maxims,  so  often  quoted  as  sagacious,  are, 
in  fact,  extremely  shallow ;  instead  of  seeing  more  deeply  into 
human  nature,  Chesterfield  only  saw  its  superficial  action.  If 
there  were  no  sphere  for  character  but  promiscuously  filled,  elegant 
drawing-rooms,  no  more  stable  law  operating  on  society  than 
fashion,  and  no  method  of  acting  on  human  affairs  but  that  of 
diplomacy,  such  advice  would  have  a  higher  degree  of  signifi- 
cance. It  applies  to  but  few  of  the  actual  exigencies  of  life,  and 
has  reference  only  to  partial  interests.  All  men  should  be  social 
adventurers,  and  all  women  aim  exclusively  at  social  distinction, 
to  give  any  general  utility  to  precepts   like   these.     They  are 


LORD      CHESTERFIELD.  35 

essentially  temporary  and  occasional  even  when  true,  and  utterly 
false  when  elevated  into  principles  of  action.  Hence  we  deny 
Dr.  Johnson's  assertion  that,  setting  the  immorality  of  Chester- 
field's letters  aside,  they  form  the  best  manual  for  gentlemen. 
The  character  repudiates  the  term  ;  its  elements  are  no  more  to  be 
"  set  in  a  note-book  "  than  the  spirit  of  honor  or  the  inspiration 
of  art.  The  views  of  Chesterfield,  practically  carried  out,  would 
make  a  pedantic  courtier  or  a  courteous  pedant ;  they  trench  too 
much  upon  the  absolute  qualities  of  manhood  to  leave  substance 
enough  in  character  upon  which  to  rear  enduring  graces ;  they 
omit  frankness  and  moral  courage, —  two  of  the  most  attractive 
and  commanding  of  human  attributes, —  and  substitute  an  elegant 
chicanery,  incompatible  with  self-respect,  upon  which  the  highest 
grace  of  manner  rests ;  their  logic  is  that  of  intrigue,  not  of 
reason  ;  their  charms  are  those  of  the  dancing-master,  not  of  the 
knight.  Their  relation  to  a  true  philosophy  of  life  is  no  more 
intimate  than  the  concetti  of  the  Italians  to  the  highest  poetry, 
or  the  scenery  of  a  theatre  to  that  of  nature ;  for  to  cultivate 
grace  of  manners  is  not  to  supersede,  but  only  to  give  expression 
to  nature  in  a  ccrtiiin  way ;  it  is  not  imitation  from  without,  but 
development  from  within. 

"For  God's  sake,"  writes  Chesterfield,  ''^ sacrifice  to  the 
graces  ;  keep  out  of  all  scrapes  and  quarrels  ;  know  all  ceremo- 
nies ;  maintain  a  seeming  frankness,  but  a  real  reserve ;  have 
address  enough  to  refuse  without  ofiending ;  some  people  are  to  be 
reasoned,  some  flattered,  some  intimidated,  and  some  teased  into  a 
thing."  By  his  own  statement,  this  course  secured  him  only  a 
life  of  refined  servitude  and  a  desolate  old  age,  for  the  official 
dignity  he  enjoyed  was  pettishly  abandoned  from  disappointment 
as  to  its  incidental  benefits.  It  is  not,  however,  in  a  moral,  but 
in  a  philosophical  view,  as  a  question  of  enlightened  self-interest. 
that  we  demur  to  the  authenticity  of  his  doctrine.  Its  real  defect 
is  narrowness,  the  exaggeration  of  certain  principles  of  action,  an 
inharmonious  view  of  the  relation  between  character  and  behavior, 
an  undue  importance  attached  to  secondary  interests  —  in  a  word, 
an  artificial  system  in  absolute  contradiction  to  prevalent  natural 
laws ;  and  it  is  chiefly  worthy  of  refutation,  because,  instead  of 
being  advanced  as  a  judicious  formula  in  specific  instances,  or 


36  THE     MAN     OF     THE     WORLD. 

details  of  conduct  to  be  acquired  once  and  habitually  exer- 
cised afterwards,  it  is  presented  as  a  great  leading  principle, 
and  a  regular  system  altogether  expedient  and  universally  appli- 
cable ;  which  can  be  true  of  no  theory  either  in  literature,  art,  or 
life,  which  is  based  on  mere  dexterity  and  address ;  for  Jesuitism 
can  no  more  permanently  advance  the  interests  of  society  than  it 
can  those  of  religion,  science,  or  any  real  branch  of  human 
welfare. 

Chesterfield's  editor  dwells  upon  his  classical  learning,  and  his 
benevolent  policy  wtile  Lord  Lieutenant  in  L-eland,  where  his 
rule  is  declared  to  have  been  second  only,  in  its  benign  influence, to 
that  of  Lord  Ormond  ;  but  neither  of  these  graces  seems  to  have 
originated  in  a  disinterested  impulse.  His  acquisitions  were 
chiefly  valued  as  a  means  of  display,  and  sources  of  an  efficient 
culture ;  and  he  advocated  schools  and  villages  to  civilize  the 
Highlands  after  the  rebellion,  instead  of  more  cruel  measures, 
because,  on  the  whole,  clemency  was  the  most  politic  course  to 
pursue.  It  was  this  barrenness  of  soul,  this  absence  of  manly 
enthusiasm,  and  fanatical  reliance  on  the  technical  facilities  of 
society,  that  deprive  both  the  cateer  and  the  precepts  of  Chester- 
field of  all  claim  to  cordial  recognition.  A  friend  may  have 
spoken  of  him  with  literal  truth  when  he  declared  that  he  pos- 
sessed "  a  head  to  contrive,  a  tongue  to  persuade,  and  a  hand  to 
execute"  in  masterly  style  what  he  attempted;  but  the  beauty 
and  desirableness  of  these  endowments  are  much  lessened  when 
we  perceive  that  the  exquisite  machinery  was  set  in  motion  by 
motives  so  entirely  selfish,  and  its  action  regulated  by  views  des- 
titute of  intellectual  scope  and  generous  sympathies ;  when  we 
hear  the  man  thus  gifted  declare  that  "a  never-failing  desire  to 
please  "  is  the  great  incentive  of  his  mind,  and  that  the  finest 
mental  and  moral  qualities  cannot  win  his  love  to  one  awkward 
or  deformed. 

,  Chesterfield,  like  all  votaries  of  detail,  repeats  himself  contin- 
ually; he  announces,  with  oracular  emphasis,  in  almost  every 
letter,  proverbs  of  worldly  wisdom  and  economical  shrewdness, 
with  an  entire  confidence  in  their  sufficiency  worthy  of  old  Polo- 
nius,  of  which  character  he  is  but  a  refined  prototype.  The 
essence  of  these  precepts  is  only  a  timid  foresight  utterly  alien  to 


LORD      CHESTERFIELD.  37 

a  noble  spirit.  What,  for  instance,  can  be  more  servile  than  the 
maxims,  never  to  give  the  tone  to  conversation,  but  adopt  it 
from  the  company,  and  that  no  business  can  be  transacted  with- 
out dissimulation  ?  Conformity  and  adaptation  -were  his  avowed 
means  of  success,  the  alpha  and  omega  of  his  creed ;  both 
useful  and  sometimes  necessary  alternatives  in  social  intercourse, 
but  always  inferior  and  secondary,  never  primal  and  enduring. 
When  allowed  to  supersede  the  loftier  and  more  genuine  instincts, 
they  not  only  fiiil  of  their  end,  but  are  absolutely  incompatible 
with  the  character  of  a  gentleman.  Not  by  such  a  course  did 
Sidney,  Raleigh,  Mackintosh,  Robert  Burns,  or  any  one  of 
nature's  nobility,  impress  and  win  their  fellow- creatures,  but 
rather  by  ingenuous  self-assertion,  mellowed  and  harmonized  by 
kindly  and  sympathetic  feelings,  that  gave  a  grace  "  beyond  the 
reach  of  art "  to  their  conversation  and  manners. 

But  Chesterfield's  disloyalty  to  nature  and  devotion  to  artifice 
are  more  signally  betrayed  in  his  views  of  the  two  great 
sources  of  actual  refinement  in  social  life,  music  and  women. 
The  first  may  be  considered  as  the  natural  language  of  the  soul, 
the  cultivation  of  which  is  one  of  the  most  available  means  of 
acquiring  that  harmonious  development  and  sense  of  the  beau- 
tiful, whidh  round  her  angles  and  elicit  the  gentle  in^ucnces  of 
human  intercourse.  Chesterfield  peremptorily  forbade  his  son  to 
cultivate  music,  at  the  same  time  that  he  strove  to  preach  boor- 
ishness  out  of  him  by  rules  of  breeding  ;  a  process  which  might 
have  been  vastly  facilitated  by  the  study  of  any  one  of  the  fine 
arts  for  which  he  had  the  least  tendency.  But  even  in  gallantry, 
—  not  to  profane  love  by  thus  designating  his  idea  of  the  relation 
)f  the  sexes, —  even  in  that  which  owes  its  zest  and  utility  to 
gratified  sympathies,  he  leans  on  the  broken  reed  of  prescription 
and  expediency,  counselling  his  son  to  choose  a  fair  companion,  not 
as  a  being  to  inspire,  through  natural  affinity,  his  sentiments  and 
conduct,  but  as  an  approved  model  and  guide  in  fashionable  life. 
How  little  did  this  shrewd  man  of  the  world  know  of  the  benefit, 
even  to  the  manners  of  an  intelligent  youth,  derivable  from  even 
one  reality  in  his  social  relations  !  Indeed,  from  the  affectionate 
disposition  that  appears  to  have  belonged  to  Philip  Stanhope, 
his  good  sense  and  general  acquirements,  the  only  chance  for 


88  THE     MAN     OF     THE    WORLD. 

him  to  have  realized  his  father's  hopes,  in  point  of  expression, 
bearing,  costume,  address,  and  all  the  externals  of  character, 
would  seem  to  have  been  a  genuine  attachment.  He  was  so  organ- 
ized as  to  be  unable  to  attach  that  importance  to  the  graces  his 
father  adored,  which  would  lead  him  to  court  their  favors ;  for 
this  he  needed  the  stimulus  of  a  powerful  motive,  and  such  a 
one  would  have  been  naturally  supplied  by  real  devotion  to  a 
fine  woman  ;  or  the  effect  of  such  a  feeling  would  have  gradually 
softened  and  elevated  his  tone  and  air  so  that  he  would  have 
become  as  insinuating  as  his  elegant  parent  desired,  and  that,  too, 
from  instinct,  and  not  by  rule.  The  great  evil  of  teaching  the 
details  of  behavior  is  that,  even  when  acquired  in  all  their  per- 
fection, there  is  a  want  of  unity  in  the  result ;  they  are  exercised 
without  the  crowning  grace  of  all  manner,  from  the  rhetorician's 
gesture  to  the  courtier's  salutations  —  unconsciousness.  There 
is  no  happy  fusion  between  manhood  and  manner ;  the  one 
hangs  objectively  on  the  other,  like  two  parts  of  an  ill-adjusted 
machine. 

Nature  is  apt  to  vindicate  herself  upon  the  ultra-conventional 
by  entailing  disappointment  upon  their  dearest  hopes.  Her 
laws  are  as  inexorable  as  they  are  benign.  Chesterfield  seems  to 
have  been  more  in  earnest  in  the  education  of  his  son  than  in  any 
other  object  in  life ;  but  true  parental  affection  had  little  to  do 
with  this  assiduity ;  he  constantly  reminds  him  that  he  has  no 
weak  attachment  to  his  person,  that  his  pecuniary  supplies 
depend  upon  the  respect  paid  to  the  instruction  he  receives,  and 
that  the  estimation  he  will  hereafter  enjoy  from  his  father,  will 
depend  upon  the  degree  in  which  he  realizes  the  expectations 
formed  of  him.  In  all  this  we  see  only  a  modification  of  self- 
love,  but  no  true  parental  feeling.  The  object  of  all  this  solici- 
tude well  repaid  the  care  lavished  upon  his  mental  cultivation, 
but  he  never  became  either  elegant  or  fascinating ;  his  good 
qualities  were  solid,  not  shining,  and  his  advancement  was  owing 
to  his  father's  personal  influence.  The  latter' s  will  is  character- 
istic ;  he  provides  that,  if  his  son  ever  engages  in  the  vulgar 
amusement  of  horse-racing,  he  shall  forfeit  five  thousand  pounds 
to  the  Dean  of  Westminster,  who  is  satirized  in  the  compliment ; 
for  Chesterfield  thought  himself  overcharged  by  him  in  a  pecu- 


LORD     CHESTERFIELD.  39 

niary  transaction,  and  wished  to  leave  this  evidence  of  his  reliance 
upon  his  grasping  disposition. 

During  his  life,  a  high  position  and  good  sense  enabled  Ches- 
terfield to  reap  advantages  from  polished  and  sagacious  urbanity, 
which  naturally  led  to  an  exaggerated  estimate  of  its  value  under 
less  auspicious  circumstances.  Having  studied  with  marked  suc- 
cess at  Cambridge,  through  the  influence  of  a  relative,  he  was 
appointed  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber  to  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
and  afterwards  elected  to  Parliament  by  the  borough  of  St.  Ger- 
main in  Cornwall.  His  first  speech  established  a  reputation  for 
oratory,  and  is  described  as  quite  as  remarkable  for  able  reasoning 
as  for  elegant  diction.  He  seems  to  have  retained  the  good 
opinion  thus  acquired  while  in  the  House  of  Lords ;  to  his  father's 
seat  in  which  assembly  he  duly  succeeded.  His  judicious  man- 
agement while  ambassador  to  Holland,  in  1728,  saved  Hanover 
from  a  war,  and,  for  this  service,  he  was  made  knight  of  the 
Garter.  Subsequently  he  filled,  Avith  apparent  success,  the 
offices  of  Lord  Steward  of  the  Household  in  George  the  Second's 
reign.  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  and  Secretary  of  State.  Upon 
resigning  the  seals,  he  retired  from  public  life,  and  deafness  soon 
confined  him  to  books  and  a  small  circle  of  acquaintance.  The 
prestlfje  of  official  rank,  and  the  allurements  of  an  elegant  address, 
having  passed  away  with  his  life,  we  must  turn  from  the  orator 
and  statesman  to  the  author  for  authentic  evidence  of  his  charac- 
ter. His  fate  in  this  regard  is  somewhat  curious.  The  elaborate 
speeches  and  sketches  of  character  which  he  gave  to  the  public 
have,  in  a  great  measure,  lost  their  significance.  The  style  of 
writing  has  so  much  advanced  since  his  time  that  we  recognize  in 
him  no  such  claims  to  literary  excellence  as  his  cotemporaries 
awarded.  His  name  is  now  almost  exclusively  associated  with 
his  letters  to  his  natural  son  —  letters  written  in  the  most  entire 
parental  confidence,  and  with  the  vain  hope  of  converting,  by 
specific  instructions,  an  awkward  and  apparently  honest-hearted 
and  sensible  fellow  into  an  accomplished,  winsome,  and  shrewd 
man  of  the  world.  It  has  been  said,  in  excuse  for  the  absolute 
stress  laid  upon  external  qualities  in  these  letters,  that  the  youth 
to  whom  they  were  addressed  was  lamentably  deficient  in  these 
respects ;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  form  the  most 


40  THE     MAN      OF     THE     WORLD. 

genuine  expression  of  Chesterfield's  mind  —  the  more  so  that 
thej  were  never  intended  for  the  public  eye.  By  a  not  uncom- 
mon fortune  in  literary  ventures,  these  estrays  and  waifs  of  private 
correspondence  alone  keep  alive  the  name  and  perpetuate  the 
views  of  Chesterfield. 

It  would  be  unjust  not  to  ascribe  the  worldly  spirit  and  absence 
of  natural  enthusiasm  in  these  epistles,  in  a  degree,  to  the  period 
that  gave  them  birth.  It  was  an  age  when  intrigue  prospered, 
and  wit,  rather  than  sentiment,  was  in  vogue.  There  was  a 
league  between  letters  and  politics,  based  wholly  on  party  inter- 
ests. It  was  the  age  of  Swift,  Pope,  and  Bolingbroke.  The 
queen  governed  George  the  Second,  Lady  Yarmouth  the  queen, 
and  Chesterfield,  for  a  time,  Lady  Yarmouth.  Agreeable  con- 
versation, an  insinuating  manner,  and  subtlety  of  observation, 
were  then  very  efficient  weapons.  High  finish,  point,  verbal 
felicity,  the  costume  rather  than  the  soul  of  literature,  won  the 
day.  Neither  the  frankness  and  undisguised  overflow  of  thought 
and  feeling  that  mark  the  Shakspcarian  era,  nor  the  earnest  utter- 
ance and  return  to  truth  ushered  in  by  the  first  French  Revolu- 
tion, existed ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  neutral  ground  between 
the  two  periods,  whereon  there  was  the  requisite  space,  leisure, 
and  absence  of  lofty  purpose,  to  give  full  scope  to  the  courtier, 
the  wit,  and  the  intriguante.  It  was,  comparatively  speaking,  a 
timid,  time-serving,  partisan,  and  showy  epoch.  The  spirit  of  the 
times  is  caught  up  and  transmitted  in  Horace  Walpole's  letters, 
and  quite  as  significantly  embodied,  in  a  less  versatile  manner,  in 
those  of  Chesterfield. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  regarding  courteous  manners  as  a  mere 
necessary  appendage  to  a  man, —  a  convenient  and  appi'opriate 
facility,  like  current  coin,  or  the  laws  of  the  land, —  Chesterfield 
attempts  to  elevate  them  into  the  highest  and  most  comprehensive 
practical  significance.  He  would  have  manner  overlay  individu- 
ality, and  goes  so  far  as  to  declare  that  a  soldier  is  a  brute,  a 
scholar  a  pedant,  and  a  philosopher  a  cynic,  without  good  breed- 
ing. If,  for  the  latter  term,  feeling  were  substituted,  those  and 
similar  broad  inferences  would  be  far  more  correct.  Some  of  the 
greatest  brutes,  cynics,  and  pedants,  we  encounter  in  the  world, 
are  perfectly  well-bred ;  they  refuse  an  act  of  humanity  with  a 


LORD      CHESTERFIELD.  41 

graxieful  bow,  smile  good-naturedly  ^Yhile  exposing  the  ignorance 
of  a  sensitive  companion,  and  engross,  with  an  afifable  and  even 
respectful  air,  all  the  privileges  at  hand.  It  is  common  to  see  a 
Frenchman  salute,  in  the  most  polite  manner,  those  who  enter  a 
public  conveyance,  pass  round  his  snuff-box,  and  entertoin  the  com- 
pany with  agreeable  remarks ;  but,  if  it  suits  his  pleasure,  he  will, 
at  the  same  time,  gormandize  a  reeking  pate^  put  on  his  nightcaj) 
and  snore,  or  refuse  to  yield  his  seat  to  an  invalid,  with  a  com- 
placent egotism  that  would  astonish  an  American  backwoodsman, 
who,  without  a  particle  of  monsieur's  external  courtesy,  obeys 
the  laws  of  chivalric  kindness  from  instinct  and  habit.  "  The 
understanding  is  the  voiture  of  life,"  says  Chesterfield,  and, 
apparently,  he  infers  that  it  is  to  be  put  at  random  on  any  track, 
and  to  move  at  any  speed,  which  the  will  of  the  elegant  majority 
dictate ;  an  axiom  wholly  at  variance  with  that  independence 
which  some  one  has  nobly  declared  to  be  the  positive  sign  of  a 
gentleman.  Absence  of  mind  in  company,  so  often  the  indication 
of  superiority,  he  considered  only  as  evidence  of  weakness ;  and 
so  enervated  was  his  taste  that  he  preferred  the  cold  proprieties 
of  the  artificial  French  stage  to  the  violated  unities  of  robust 
English  tragedy.  It  is  characteristic  of  such  a  man  to  believe  in 
chance  more  than  truth ;  and  his  uncon(|ucrable  love  of  play 
accords  with  the  blind  philosophy  that  controlled  his  life.  His 
conceit  of  knowledge  of  human  nature  was  based  upon  the  most 
inadequate  and  one-sided  observation ;  he  associated  chiefly  with 
women  of  fashion  and  men  of  state,  and,  therefore,  saw  the  calcu- 
lating and  vain,  not  tlie  impulsive  and  unconscious  play  of  char- 
acter. For  the  game  of  conventional  life,  therefore,  are  the  best 
of  his  maxims  adapted.  In  that  latent  sphere  of  truth  and 
nature,  familiar  to  more  ingenuous  and  genial  spirits,  where 
cundor,  intelligent  sympathy,  and  spontaneous  taste  luxuriate, 
they  are  as  irrelevant  as  they  are  unnatural. 
4* 


THE   PIONEER 

DANIHL  BOONE. 


There  hung,  for  many  months,  on  the  walls  of  the  Art-Union 
gallery  in  New  York,  a  picture  so  thoroughly  national  in  its 
subject  and  true  to  nature  in  its  execution,  that  it  was  refreshing 
to  contemplate  it,  after  being  wearied  with  far  more  ambitious 
yet  less  successful  attempts.  It  represented  a  flat  ledge  of  rock, 
the  summit  of  a  high  cliflf  that  projected  over  a  rich,  umbrageous 
country,  upon  which  a  band  of  hunters,  leaning  on  their  rifles, 
were  gazing  with  looks  of  delighted  surprise.  The  foremost,  a 
compact  and  agile,  though  not  very  commanding  figure,  is  point- 
ing out  the  landscape  to  his  comrades,  with  an  air  of  exultant 
yet  calm  satisfaction  ;  the  wind  lifts  his  thick  hair  from  a  brow 
full  of  energy  and  perception  ;  his  loose  hunting-shirt,  his  easy 
attitude,  the  fresh  brown  tint  of  his  cheek,  and  an  ingenuous, 
cheerful,  determined,  yet  benign  expression  of  countenance,  pro- 
claim the  hunter  and  pioneer,  the  Columbus  of  the  woods,  the 
forest  philosopher  and  brave  champion.  The  picture  represents 
Daniel  Boone  discovering  to  his  companions  the  fertile  levels  of 
Kentucky.  This  remarkable  man,  although  he  does  not  appear 
to  have  originated  any,  great  plans,  or  borne  the  responsibility  of 
an  appointed  leader  in  the  warlike  expeditions  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  possessed  one  of  those  rarely  balanced  natures,  and  that 
unpretending  efiiciency  of  character,  which,  though  seldom 
invested  with  historical  prominence,  abound  in  personal  interest. 
Without  political  knowledge,  he  sustained  an  infant  settlement ; 


DANIELBOONE.  43 

destitute  of  a  military  education,  he  proved  one  of  the  most  for- 
midable antagonists  the  Indians  ever  encountered ;  with  no  pre- 
tensions to  a  knowledge  of  civil  engineering,  he  laid  out  the  first 
road  through  the  -wilderness  of  Kentucky ;  unfiimiliar  with  books, 
he  reflected  deeply,  and  attained  to  philosophical  convicti6ns  that 
yielded  him  equanimity  of  mind ;  devoid  of  poetical  expression, 
he  had  an  extraordinary  feeling  for  natural  beauty,  and  described 
his  sensations  and  emotions  amid  the  wild  seclusion  of  the  forest 
as  prolific  of  delight ;  with  manners  entirely  simple  and  unobtru- 
sive, there  was  not  the  least  rudeness  in  his  demeanor ;  and, 
relentless  in  fight,  his  disposition  was  thoroughly  humane ;  his 
rifle  and  his  cabin,  with  the  freedom  of  the  woods,  satisfied  his 
wants ;  the  sense  of  insecurity,  in  wliich  no  small  portion  of  his 
life  was  passed,  only  rendered  him  circumspect ;  and  his  trials 
induced  a  serene  patience  and  fortitude ;  while  his  love  of  adven- 
ture was  a  ceaseless  inspiration.  Such  a  man  forms  an  admira- 
ble progenitor  in  that  nursery  of  character,  the  West ;  and  a 
fine  contrast  to  the  development  elsewhere  induced  by  the  spirit 
of  trade  and  political  ambition.  Like  the  rudely  sculptured  calu- 
mets picked  up  on  the  plantations  of  Kentucky,  —  memorials  of  a 
primitive  race,  whose  mounds  and  copper  utensils  yet  attest  a 
people  antecedent  to  the  Indians  that  fled  before  the  advancing 
settlements  of  Boone,  —  his  character  indicates,  for  the  descend- 
ants of  the  hunters  and  pioneers,  a  brave,  independent,  and  noble 
ancestry.  Thus,  as  related  to  the  diverse  forms  of  a  national 
character  in  the  val'ious  sections  of  the  country,  as  well  as  on 
account  of  its  intrinsic  attractiveness,  the  western  pioneer  is  an 
object  of  peculiar  interest ;  'and  the  career  of  Boone  is  alike  disA 
tinguished  for  its  association  with  romantic  adventure  and  histori/ 
cal  fact. 

A  consecutive  narrative,  however,  would  yield  but  an  ineffect- 
ive picture  of  his  life  as  it  exists  in  the  light  of  sympathetic 
reflection.  The  pioneer,  like  the  mariner,  alternates  between 
long  uneventful  periods  and  moments  fraught  with  excitement ; 
the  forest,  like  the  ocean,  is  monotonous  as  well  as  grand ;  and 
its  tranquil  beauty,  for  weeks  together,  may  not  be  sublimated 
by  terror  ;  yet  in  both  spheres  there  is  an  under-current  of  sug- 
gestive life,  and  when  the  spirit  of  conflict  and  vigilance  sleeps, 


44  THEPIONEER. 

that  of  contemplation  is  often  alive.  Perhaps  it  is  this  very  suc- 
cession of  ''moving  accidents"  and  lonely  quiet,  of  solemn 
repose  and  intense  activity,  that  constitutes  the  fascination  which 
the  sea  and  the  -wilderness  possess  for  imaginative  minds.  They 
appeal  at  once  to  poetical  and  heroic  instincts ;  and  these  are 
more  frequently  combined  in  the  same  individual  than  we 
usually  suppose.  Before  attempting  to  realize  the  characteris- 
tics of  Boone  in  their  unity,  we  must  note  the  salient  points  in 
his  experience ;  and  this  is  best  done  by  reviving  a  few  scenes 
which  typify  the  whole  drama. 

It  is  midnight  in  the  forest ;  and,  through  the  interstices  of  its 
thickly-woven  branches,  pale  moonbeams  glimmer  on  the  emerald 
sward.  The  only  sounds  that  break  upon  the  brooding  silence 
are  an  occasional  gust  of  wind  amid  the  branches  of  the  loftier 
trees,  the  hooting  of  an  owl,  and  sometimes  the  wild  cry  of  a 
beast  disappointed  of  his  prey,  or  scared  by  the  dusky  figure 
of  a  savage  on  guard  at  a  watch-fire.  Beside  its  glowing  embers, 
and  leaning  against  the  huge  trunk  of  a  gigantic  hemlock,  sit 
two  girls,  whose  complexion  and  habiliments  indicate  their  Anglo- 
Saxon  origin  ;  their  hands  are  clasped  together,  and  one  appears 
to  sleep  as  her  head  rests  upon  her  companion's  shoulder.  They 
are  very  pale,  and  an  expression  of  anxiety  is  evident  in  the  very 
firmness  of  their  resigned  looks.  A  slight  rustle  in  the  thick 
undergrowth,  near  their  camp,  causes  the  Indian  sentinel  to  rise 
quickly  to  his  feet  and  peer  in  the  direction  of  the  sound ;  a 
moment  after  he  leaps  up,  with  a  piercing  shOut,  and  falls  bleed- 
ing upon  the  ground,  while  the  crack  of  a  rifle  echoes  through 
the  wood.  In  an  instant  twenty  Indians  spring  from  around  the 
fire,  raise  the  war-whoop,  and  brandish  their  tomahawks ;  but 
three  or  four  instantly  drop  before  the  deadly  aim  of  the  invad- 
ers, several  run  howling  with  pain  into  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
and  the  remainder  set  off  on  an  opposite  trail.  Then  calmly,  but 
with  an  earnest  joy,  revealed  by  the  dying  flames  upon  his  feat- 
ures, a  robust,  compactly-knit  figure  moves  with  a  few  hasty 
strides  towards  the  females,  gazes  eagerly  into  their  faces,  lifts 
one  in  his  arms  and  presses  her  momentarily  to  his  breast,  gives 
a  hasty  order,  and  his  seven  companions  with  the  three  in  their 
midst  rapidly  retrace  their  way  over  the  tangled  brushwood  and 


DANIELBOONE.  46 

amid  the  pillared  trunks,  until  they  come  out,  at  dawn,  upon  a 
clearing,  studded  with  enormous  roots,  among  which  waves  the 
tasselled  maize,  beside  a  spacious  log-dwelling  surrounded  by  a 
palisade.  An  eager,  tearful  group  rush  out  to  meet  them :  and 
the  weary  and  hungry  band  are  soon  discussing  their  midnight 
adventure  over  a  substantial  breakftist  of  game.  Thus  Boone 
rescued  his  daughter  and  her  friend,  when  they  were  taken  cap- 
tive by  the  Indians,  within  sight  of  his  primitive  dwelling  ;  —  an 
incident  which  illustrates,  more  than  pages  of  description,  how 
closely  pioneer  presses  upon  savage  life,  and  with  what  peril 
civilization  encroaches  upon  the  domain  of  nature. 

It  is  the  dawn  of  a  spring  day  in  the  wilderness.  As  steals  the 
gray  pearly  light  over  the  densely-waving  tree-tops,  an  eagle 
majestically  rises  from  a  withered  bough,  and  floats  through  the 
silent  air,  becoming  a  mere  speck  on  the  sky  ere  he  disappears 
over  the  distant  mountains ;  dew-drops  are  condensed  on  the  green 
threads  of  the  pine  and  the  swollen  buds  of  the  hickory ;  pale 
bulbs  and  spears  of  herbage  shoot  from  the  black  loam,  amid  the 
decayed  leaves ;  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  wood  the  rabbit's 
tread  is  audible,  and  the  chirp  of  the  squirrel. 

As  the  sunshine  expands,  a  thousand  notes  of  birds  at  work  on 
their  nests  invade  the  solitude  ;  the  bear  fearlessly  laps  the  run- 
ning stream,  and  the  elk  turns  his  graceful  head  from  the 
pendent  branch  he  is  nibbling,  at  an  unusual  sound  from  the 
adjacent  cane-brake.  It  is  a  lonely  man  rising  from  his  night 
slumber  ;  with  his  blanket  on  his  arm  and  his  rifle  grasped  in  one 
hand,  he  approaches  the  brook  and  bathes  his  head  and  neck ; 
then,  glancing  around,  turns  aside  the  interwoven  thickets  near 
by,  and  climbs  a  stony  mound  shadowed  by  a  fine  clump  of  oaks, 
where  stjinds  an  humble  but  substantial  cabin ;  he  lights  a  fire 
upon  the  flat  stone  before  the  entrance,  kneads  a  cake  of  maize, 
while  his  venison  steak  is  broiling,  and  carefully  examines  the 
priming  of  his  rifle.  The  meal  despatched  with  a  hearty  relish, 
he  closes  the  door  of  his  lodge,  and  saunters  through  the  wilder- 
ness ;  his  eye  roves  from  the  wild  flower  at  his  feet,  to  the  clifi* 
that  looms  afar  off";  he  pauses  in  admiration  before  some  venerable 
sylvan  monarch ;   watches  the  bounding  sta;r  his  intrusion  has 


46  THEPIONEER. 

disturbed,  or  cuts  a  little  spray  from  the  sassafras  with  the  knife 
in  his  girdle. 

As  the  sun  rises  higher,  he  penetrates  deeper  into  the  vast 
and  beautiful  forest ;  each  form  of  vegetable  life,  from  the  enor- 
mous fiingi  to  the  delicate  vine-wreath,  the  varied  structure  of 
the  trees,  the  cries  and  motions  of  the  wild  animals  and  birds, 
excite  in  his  mind  a  delightful  sense  of  infinite  power  and  beauty ; 
he  feels  as  he  walks,  in  every  nerve  and  vein,  the  ''glorious  priv- 
ilege of  being  independent ;  "  reveries,  that  bathe  his  soul  in  a 
tranquil  yet  lofty  pleasure,  succeed  each  other  ;  and  the  sight  of 
some  lovely  vista  induces  him  to  lie  down  upon  a  heap  of  dead 
leaves  and  lose  himself  in  contemplation.  Weariness  and  hunger, 
or  the  deepening  gloom  of  approaching  night,  at  length  warn  him 
to  retrace  his  steps  ;  on  the  way  he  shoots  a  wild  turkey  for  his 
supper,  sits  over  the  watch-fire,  beneath  the  solemn  firmament 
of  stars,  and  recalls  the  absent  and  loved  through  the  first 
watches  of  the  night.  Months  have  elapsed  since  he  has  thus 
lived  alone  in  the  wilderness,  his  brother  having  left  him  to  seek 
ammunition  and  provision  at  distant  settlements.  Despondency, 
for  a  while,  rendered  his  loneliness  oppressive,  but  such  is  his  love 
of  nature  and  freedom,  his  zest  for  life  in  the  woods,  and  a  natural 
self-reliance,  that  gradually  he  attains  a  degree  of  happiness 
which  De  Foe's  hero  might  have  envied.  Nature  is  a  bem'gn 
mother,  and  whispers  consoling  secrets  to  attentive  ears,  and 
mysteriously  cheers  the  heart  of  her  pure  votaries  who  truthfully 
cast  themselves  on  her  bosom. 

Not  thus  serenely,  however,  glides  away  the  forest  life  of  our 
pioneer.  He  is  jealously  watched  by  the  Indians,  upon  whose 
hunting-grounds  he  is  encroaching  ;  they  steal  upon  his  retreat 
and  make  him  captive,  and  in  this  situation  a  new  phase  of  his 
character  exhibits  itself  The  soul  that  has  been  in  long  and  inti- 
mate communion  with  natural  grandeur  and  beauty,  and  learned 
the  scope  and  quality  of  its  own  resources,  gains  self-possession 
and  foresight.  The  prophets  of  old  did  not  resort  to  the  desert  in 
vain ;  and  the  bravery  and  candor  of  hunters  and  seamen  is  partly 
the  result  of  the  isolation  and  hardihood  of  their  lives.  Boone 
excelled  as  a  sportsman ;  he  won  the  respect  of  his  savage  captors 
by  his  skill  and  fortitude  ;  and  more  than  once,  without  violence, 


DANIELBOONE.  47 

emancipated  himself,  revealed  their  bloody  schemes  to  his  coun- 
trymen, and  met  them  on  the  battle-field,  with  a  coolness  and 
celerity  that  awoke  their  intense  astonishment.  Again  and 
again  he  saw  his  companions  fall  before  their  tomahawks  and 
rifles ;  his  daughter,  as  we  have  seen,  was  stolen  from  his  very 
door,  though  fortunately  rescued ;  his  son  fell  before  his  eyes  in 
a  conflict  with  the  Indians  who  opposed  their  emigration  to  Ken- 
tucky ;  his  brother  and  his  dearest  friends  were  victims  either  to 
their  strategy  or  violence;  and  his  own  immunity  is  to  be 
accounted  for  by  the  influence  he  had  acquired  over  his  foes, 
which  induced  them  often  to  spare  his  life  —  an  influence  derived 
from  the  extraordinary  tact,  patience,  and  facility  of  action,  which 
his  experience  and  character  united  to  foster. 

Two  other  scenes  of  his  career  are  requisite  to  the  picture. 
On  the  banks  of  the  Missouri  river,  less  than  forty  years  ago, 
there  stood  a  few  small  rude  cabins  in  the  shape  of  a  hollow 
square.  In  one  of  these  the  now  venerable  figure  of  the  gallant 
hunter  is  listlessly  stretched  upon  a  couch ;  a  slice  of  buck,  twisted 
on  the  ramrod  of  his  rifle,  is  roasting  by  the  fire,  within  reach 
of  his  hand;  he  is  still  alone,  but  the  surrounding  cabins  are 
occupied  by  his  thriving  descendants.  The  vital  energies  of  the 
pioneer  are  gradually  ebbing  away,  though  his  thick  white  locks, 
well-knit  frame,  and  the  light  of  his  keen  eye,  evidence  the  genu- 
ineness and  prolonged  tenure  of  his  life.  Overmatched  by  the 
conditions  of  the  land  law  in  Kentucky,  and  annoyed  by  the 
march  of  civilization  in  the  regions  he  had  known  in  their  primi- 
tive beauty,  he  had  wandered  here,  fiir  from  the  state  he  founded 
and  the  haunts  of  his  manhood,  to  die,  with  the  same  adventurous 
and  independent  spirit  in  which  he  had  lived.  He  occupied  some 
of  the  irksome  hours  of  confinement  incident  to  age  in  polishing 
his  own  cherry-wood  coffin ;  and  it  is  said  he  was  found  dead  in 
the  woods  at  hist,  a  few  rods  from  his  dwelling. 

On  an  autumn  day,  but  a  few  years  since,  a  hearse  might  have 
been  seen  winding  up  the  main  street  of  Frankfort,  Kentucky, 
di'awn  by  white  horses,  and  garlanded  with  evergreens.  The 
pall-bearers  comprised  some  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the 
state.  It  was  the  second  funeral  of  Daniel  Boone.  By  an  act 
of  tlie  legislature,  his  remains  were  removed  from  the  banks  of 


48  THEPIONEER. 

the  Missouri  to  the  public  cemetery  of  the  capital  of  Kentucky, 
and  there  deposited  with  every  ceremonial  of  respect  and  love. 

This  oblation  was  in  the  highest  degree  just  and  appropriate, 
for  the  name  of  Boone  is  identified  with  the  state  he  originally 
explored,  and  liis  character  associates  itself  readily  with  that  of 
her  people  and  scenery.  No  part  of  the  country  is  more  indi- 
vidual in  these  respects  than  Kentucky.  As  the  word  imports, 
it  was  once  tlie  hunting  and  battle  ground  of  savage  tribes  for 
centuries;  and  not  until  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century 
was  it  weH  known  to  Anglo-Saxon  explorers.  The  elk  and  buf- 
falo held  undisputed  possession  with  the  Indian ;  its  dark  forests 
served  as  a  contested  boundary  between  the  Cherokees,  Creeks, 
and  Catawbas,  of  the  South,  and  the  Shawnees,  Delawares,  and 
Wyandots,  of  the  North ;  and  to  these  inimical  tribes  it  was  indeed 
*•  a  dark  and  bloody  ground." 

Unauthenticated  expeditions  thither  we  hear  of  before  that  of 
Boone,  but  with  his  first  visit  the  history  of  the  region  becomes 
clear  and  progressive,  remarkable  for  its  rapid  and  steady  progress 
and  singular  fortunes.  The  same  year  that  independence  was 
declared,  Virginia  made  a  county  of  the  embryo  state,  and  forts 
scattered  a.t  intervals  over  the  face  of  the  country  alone  yielded 
refuge  to  the  colonists  from  their  barbarian  invaders.  In  1778, 
Duquesne,  with  his  Canadian  and  Indian  army,  met  with  a 
vigorous  repulse  at  Boonesborough ;  in  1778,  occurred  'Roger 
Clark's  brilliant  expedition  against  the  English  forts  of  Vincennes 
and  Kaskaskias ;  and  the  next  year,  a  single  blockhouse  —  the 
forlorn  hope  of  advancing  civilization  —  was  erected  by  Robert 
Patterson  where  Lexington  now  stands ;  soon  after  took  place  the 
unfortunate  expedition  of  Col.  Bowman  against  the  Indians  of 
Chillicothe ;  and  the  Virginian  legislature  passed  the  celebrated 
land  law.  This  enactment  neglected  to  provide  for  a  general 
survey  at  the  expense  of  the  government ;  each  holder  of  a  war- 
rant located  therefore  at  pleasure,  and  made  his  own  survey ;  yet 
a  special  entry  was  required  by  the  law.  in  order  clearly  to  desig- 
nate boundaries;  the  vagueness  of  many  entries  rendered  the 
titles  null ;  those  of  Boone,  and  men  similarly  unacquainted  with 
legal  writing,  were,  of  course,  destitute  of  any  accuracy  of 
description;    and  hence,  interminable  perplexity,  disputes,  and 


DANIELBOONE.  49 

forfeitures.  The  immediate  consequence  of  the  law,  however, 
was  to  induce  a  flood  of  emigration,  and  the  fever  of  land  specu- 
lation rose  and  spread  to  an  unexampled  height ;  to  obtain  patents 
for  rich  lands  became  the  ruling  passion;  and  simultaneous 
Indian  hostilities  prevailed  —  so  that  Kentucky  was  transformed, 
all  at  once,  from  an  agricultural  and  hunting  region,  thinly 
peopled,  to  an  arena  where  rapacity  and  war  swayed  a  vast  multi- 
tude. The  conflicts,  law-suits,  border  adventures,  and  personal 
feuds,  growing  out  of  this  condition  of  aflliirs,  would  yield  memo- 
rable themes,  without  number,  for  the  annalist.  To  this  epoch 
succeeded  "  a  labyrinth  of  conventions." 

The  position  of  Kentucky  was  anomalous :  the  appendage  of  a 
state  unable  to  protect  her  frontier  from  savage  invasion ;  her 
future  prosperity  in  a  great  measure  dependent  upon  the  glorious 
river  that  bounded  her  domain,  and  the  United  States  government 
already  proposing  to  yield  the  right  of  its  navigation  to  a  foreign 
power ;  separated  by  the  Alleghany  Mountains  from  the  populous 
and  cultivated  East,  and  the  tenure  by  which  estates  were  held 
within  its  limits  quite  unsettled,  it  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at 
that  reckless  political  adventurers  began  to  look  upon  Kentucky 
us  a  promising  sphere  for  their  intrigues.  Without  adverting  to 
any  particular  instances,  or  renewing  the  inquiry  into  the  motives 
of  prominent  actors  in  those  scenes,  it  is  interesting  to  perceive 
how  entirely  the  intelligence  and  honor  of  the  people  triumphed 
over  selfish  ambition  and  cunning  artifice.  Foreign  governments 
and  domestic  traitors  failed  in  their  schemes  to  alienate  the  isolated 
state  from  the  growing  confederacy.  Repulsed  as  she  was  again 
and  again  in  her  attempts  to  secure  constitutional  freedom,  she 
might  have  said  to  the  parent  government,  with  the  repudiated 
''  lady  wedded  to  the  Moor  "  — 


*•  Unkindness  may  do  much, 
And  your  unkindness  may  achieve  my  life. 
But  never  taint  my  love." 


Kentucky  was  admitted  into  the  Union  on  the  fourth  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1791. 

From  this  outline  of  her  history  we  can  readily  perceive  how 
rich  and  varied  was  the  material  whence  has  sprung  the  Western 


50  THEPIONEER. 

character.  Its  highest  phase  is  douhtless  to  be  found  in  Kentucky ; 
and  there,  perhaps,  best  illustrates  American  in  distinction  from 
European  civilization.  In  the  North  this  is  essentially  modified 
by  the  cosmopolite  influence  of  the  seaboard,  and  in  the  South, 
by  a  climate  which  assimilates  the  people  with  those  of  the  some 
latitudes  elseAvhere ;  but  in  the  AVest,  and  especially  in  Kentucky, , 
we  find  the  foundation  of  social  existence  laid  by  the  hunters, 
whose  love  of  the  woods,  equality  of  condition,  habits  of  sport  and 
agriculture,  and  distance  from  conventionalities,  combined  to 
nourish  independence,  strength  of  mind,  candor,  and  a  fresh  and 
genial  spirit.  The  ease  and  freedom  of  social  intercourse,  the 
abeyance  of  the  passion  for  gain,  and  the  scope  given  to  the  play 
of  character,  accordingly  developed  a  noble  race. 

We  can  scarcely  imagine  a  more  appropriate  figure  in  the  fore- 
ground of  the  picture  than  Daniel  Boone,  who  embodies  the 
honesty,  intelligence,  and  chivalric  spirit  of  the  state.  With  a 
population  descended  from  the  extreme  sections  of  the  land,  from 
emigrants  of  New  England  as  well  as  Virginia  and  North  Caro- 
lina, and  whose  immediate  progenitors  were  chiefly  agricultural 
gentlemen,  a  generous  and  spirited  character  might  have  been 
prophesied  of  the  natives  of  Kentucky;  and  it  is  in  the  highest 
degree  natural  for  a  people  thus  descended,  and  with  such  habits, 
to  cling  with  entire  loyalty  to  their  parent  government,  and  to 
yield,  as  they  did,  ardent  though  injudicious  sympathy  to  France 
in  the  hour  of  her  revolutionary  crisis.  Impulsive  and  honorable, 
her  legitimate  children  belong  to  the  aristocracy  of  nature ;  with- 
out the  general  intellectual  refinement  of  the  Atlantic  states,  they 
possess  a  far  higher  physical  development  and  richer  social  instincts; 
familiar  with  the  excessive  development  of  the  religious  and 
political  sentiments,  in  all  varieties  and  degrees,  their  views  are 
more  broad,  though  less  discriminate,  than  those  entertained  in 
older  communities.  The  Catholic  from  Maryland,  the  Puritan 
from  Connecticut,  and  the  Churchman  of  Carolina,  amicably 
flourished  together ;  and  the  conservative  and  fanatic  are  alike 
undisturbed;  the  convent  and  the  camp-meeting  being,  often 
within  sight  of  each  other,  equally  respected. 

Nature,  too,  has  been  as  liberal  as  the  social  elements  in 
endowing  Kentucky  with  interesting  associations.      That  mys- 


DANIELBOONE.  51 

terious  fifteen  miles  of  subterranean  Avonders  known  as  the  Mam- 
moth Cave,  —  its  wonderful  architecture,  fossil  remains,  nitrous 
atmosphere,  echoes,  fish  with  only  the  rudiment  of  an  optic  nerve, 
its  chasms  and  cataracts,  —  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
objects  in  the  world.  The  boundaries  of  the  state  are  unequalled 
in  beauty ;  on  the  east  the  Laurel  Ridge  or  Cumberland  Moun- 
tain, and  on  the  west  the  Father  of  Waters.  In  native  trees  she 
is  peculiarly  rich;  the  glorious  magnolia,  the  prolific  sugar- 
tree,  the  laurel  and  the  buckeye,  the  hickory  and  honey  locust, 
the  mulberry,  ash,  and  flowing  catalpa,  attest  in  every  village 
and  roadside  the  sylvan  aptitudes  of  the  soil ;  while  the  thick 
bufialo  grass  and  finest  crown-imperial  in  the  world  clothe  it 
with  a  lovely  garniture.  The  blue  limestone  formation  predomi- 
nates, and  its  grotesque  cliffs  and  caverns  render  much  of  the 
geological  scenery  peculiar  and  interesting. 

The  lover  of  the  picturesque  and  characteristic  must  often 
regret  that  artistic  and  literary  genius  has  not  adequately  pre- 
served the  original  local  and  social  features  of  our  own  primitive 
communities.  Facility  of  intercourse  and  the  assimilating  influ- 
ence of  trade  arc  rapidly  bringing  the  traits  and  tendencies  of  all 
parts  of  the  country  to  a  common  level ;  yet  in  the  natives  of  each 
section,  in  whom  strong  idiosyncrasies  have  kept  intact  the  original 
bias  of  character,  we  find  the  most  striking  and  suggestive  diver- 
sity. According  to  the  glimpses  afibrded  us  by  tradition,  letters, 
and  meagre  biographical  data,  the  early  settlers  of  Kentucky 
united  to  the  simplicity  and  honesty  of  the  New  York  colonists  a 
high  degree  of  chivalric  feeling ;  there  was  an  heroic  vein  induced 
by  familiarity  with  danger,  the  necessity  of  mutual  protection,  and 
the  healthful  excitement  of  the  chase.  The  absence  of  any  marked 
distinction  of  birth  or  fortune,  and  the  high  estimate  placed  upon 
society  by  those  who  dwell  on  widely-separated  plantations,  caused 
a  remarkably  cordial,  hospitable  and  warm  intercourse  to  prevail, 
almost  unknown  at  the  North  and  East.  Family  honor  was  cher- 
ished with  peculiar  zeal ;  and  the  women,  accustomed  to  eques- 
trian exercises,  and  brought  up  in  the  freedom  and  isolation  of 
nature, — their  sex  always  respected,  and  their  charms  thoroughly 
appreciated, — acquired  a  spirited  and  cheerful  development,  quite 
in  contrast  with  the  subdued,  uniform  tone  of  those  educated  in 


52  THEPIONEER. 

the  commercial  towns.  Their  mode  of  life  naturally  generated 
self-reliance,  and  evoked  a  spirit  of  independence. 

Most  articles  in  use  were  of  domestic  manufacture ;  slavery  was 
more  patriarchal  in  its  character  tlian  in  the  other  states ;  the 
practice  of  duelling,  with  its  inevitable  miseries,  had  also  the 
effect  to  give  a  certain  tone  to  social  life  rarely  witnessed  in  agri- 
cultural districts ;  and  the  Kentucky  gentleman  was  thus  early 
initiated  into  the  manly  qualities  of  a  Nimrod,  and  the  engaging 
and  reliable  ones  of  a  man  of  honor  and  gallantry  in  its  best 
sense.  It  is  to  circumstances  like  these  that  we  attribute  the 
cliivalric  spirit  of  the  state.  She  was  a  somewhat  wild  member 
of  the  confederacy  —  a  kind  of  spoiled  younger  child,  with  the 
faults  and  virtues  incident  to  her  age  and  fortunes;  nerved  by 
long  vigils  at  the  outposts  of  civilization,  —  the  wild-cat  invading 
her  first  school -houses,  and  the  Indians  her  scattered  corn-fields, 
—  and  receiving  little  parental  recognition  from  the  central  gov- 
ernment, yet,  with  a  primitive  loyalty  of  heart,  she  repudiated  the 
intrigues  of  Genet  and  Burr,  and  baptized  her  counties  for  such 
national  patriots  as  Fulton  and  Gallatin. 

Passing  through  a  fiery  ordeal  of  Indian  warfare,  the  fever  of 
land  speculation,  great  political  vicissitude,  unusual  legal  perplex- 
ities, imperfect  legislation,  and  subsequently  entire  financial  de- 
rangement, she  has  yet  maintained  a  progressive  and  individual 
attitude  ;  and  seems,  in  her  most  legitimate  specimens  of  charac- 
ter, more  satisfactorily  to  represent  the  national  type  than  any 
other  state.  Her  culture  has  not  been  as  refined,  nor  her  social 
spirit  as  versatile  and  elegant,  as  in  older  communities,  but  a  raci- 
ness,  hardihood  and  genial  freshness  of  nature  have,  for  those 
very  reasons,  more  completely  survived.  As  a  region  whence  to 
transplant  or  graft,  if  we  may  apply  horticultural  terms  to  hu- 
manity, Kentucky  is  a  rich  garden.  Nor  have  these  distinctions 
ceased  to  be.  Her  greatest  statesman,  in  the  nobleness  of  his 
character  and  the  extraordinary  personal  regard  he  inspired, 
admirably  illustrates  the  community  of  which  Boone  was  the 
characteristic  pioneer ;  and  the  volunteers  of  Kentucky,  in  the 
Indian  wars,  under  Harrison,  and  more  recently  in  Mexico,  have 
continued  to  vindicate  their  birthrisht  of  valor ;  while  one  of  her 


DANIELBOONE.  53 

most  accomplished  daughters  sent  a  magnificent  bed-quilt,  wrought 
by  her  own  hands,  to  the  World's  Fair. 

A  Pennsylvanian  by  birth,*  Boone  early  emigrated  to  North 
Carolina.  lie  appears  to  have  first  visited  Kentucky  in  1769. 
The  bounty  lands  awarded  to  the  Virginia  troops  induced  survey- 
ing expeditions  to  the  Ohio  river ;  and  when  Col.  Henderson,  in 
1775,  purchased  from  the  Cherokees  the  country  south  of  the 
Kentucky  river,  the  knowledge  which  two  years'  exploration  had 
given  Boone  of  the  region,  and  his  already  established  reputation 
for  firmness  and  adventure,  caused  him  to  be  employed  to  survey 
the  country,  tlie  fertility  and  picturesque  charms  of  which  had 
now  become  celebrated.  Accordingly,  the  pioneer,  having  satis- 
factorily laid  out  a  road  through  the  wildernesSj  not  without  man^'- 
fierce  encounters  with  the  aborigines,  chose  a  spot  to  erect  his 
log  house,  which  afterwards  became  the  nucleus  of  a  colony,  and 
the  germ  of  a  prosperous  state,  on  the  site  of  the  present  town  of 
Boonesborough. 

While  transporting  his  family  thither,  they  were  surprised  by 
the  Indians,  and,  after  severe  loss,  so  far  discouraged  in  their 
enterprise  as  to  return  to  the  nearest  settlements  ;  and  on  the  first 
summer  of  their  residence  in  Kentucky  occurred  the  bold  abduc- 
tion of  the  two  young  girls,  to  which  we  have  previously  referred. 
In  1778,  while  engaged  in  making  salt,  with  thirty  men,  at  the 
lower  Blue  Licks,  Boone  was  captured,  and,  while  his  companions 
were  taken  to  Detroit  on  terms  of  capitulation,  he  was  retained  as 
a  prisoner,  though  kindly  treated  and  allowed  to  hunt.  At  Chil- 
licothe  he  witnessed  the  extensive  preparations  of  the  Indians  to 
join  a  Canadian  expedition  against  the  infant  settlement ;  and, 
effecting  bis  escape,  succeeded  in  reaching  home  in  time  to  warn 
the  garrison  and  prepare  for  its  defence.  For  nine  days  he  was 
besieged  by  an  army  of  five  hundred  Indians  and  whites,  when 
the  enemy  abandoned  their  project  in  despair. 

*  In  a  paper  recently  presented  to  the  Pennsylvania  Historical  Society,  Mr. 
John  F.  Watson  demonstrates  that  Daniel  Boone  was  a  native  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  that  his  family  were  Quakers.  Several  of  its  members  were  "  read  out  of 
meeting  "  in  consequence  of  marrying  outside  the  pale.  The  fact  of  Daniel's 
place  of  birth  is  now  doubly  settled,  by  a  veritable  chronicler,  and  by  Sparks' 
American  Biography.  Mr.  Watson  makes  the  county  Berks,  and  Sparks  names 
it  Bucks  —  both  of  which  are  in  the  same  state. 

5* 


64  THEPIONEER. 

In  1782  he  was  engaged  in  the  memorable  and  disastrous  bat- 
tle of  the  Blue  Licks,  and  accompanied  Gen.  Clark  on  his  expe- 
dition to  avenge  it.  In  the  succeeding  year,  peace  with  England 
being  declared,  the  pioneer  saw  the  liberty  and  civilization  of  the 
country  he  had  known  as  a  wilderness,  only  inhabited  by  wild 
beasts  and  savages,  guaranteed  and  established.  In  1779,  having 
laid  out  the  chief  of  his  little  property  in  land  warrants,  on  his 
way  from  Kentucky  to  Richmond  he  was  robbed  of  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars;  wiser  claimants,  versed  in  the  legal  conditions, 
deprived  him  of  his  lands ;  disappointed  and  impatient,  he  left 
the  glorious  domain  he  had  originally  explored  and  nobly  de- 
fended, and  became  a  voluntary  subject  of  the  King  of  Spain,  by 
making  a  new  forest  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri.  An 
excursion  he  undertook,  in  1816,  to  Fort  Osage,  a  hundred  miles 
from  his  lodge,  evidences  the  unimpaired  vigor  of  his  declining 
years. 

So  indifferent  to  gain  was  Boone  that  he  neglected  to  secure  a 
fine  estate  rather  than  incur  the  trouble  of  a  visit  to  New  Or- 
leans. An  autograph  letter,  still  extant,  proves  that  he  was  not 
illiterate ;  and  Governor  Dunmore,  of  Virginia,  had  such  entire 
confidence  in  his  vigilance  and  integrity,  that  he  employed  him 
to  conduct  surveyors  eight  hundred  miles  through  the  forest,  to 
the  falls  of  the  Ohio,  gave  him  command  of  three  frontier  stations, 
and  sent  him  to  negotiate  treaties  with  the  Cherokees.  It  was  a 
fond  boast  with  him  that  the  first  white  women  that  ever  stood  on 
the  banks  of  the  Kentucky  river  were  his  wife  and  daughter,  and 
that  his  axe  cleft  the  first  tree  whose  timbers  laid  the  foundation 
of  a  permanent  settlement  in  the  state.  He  had  the  genuine  ambi- 
tion of  a  pioneer,  and  the  native  taste  for  life  in  the  woods  embod- 
ied in  the  foresters  of  Scott  and  the  Leather-stocking  of  Cooper. 
He  possessed  that  restless  impulse, —  the  instinct  of  adventure, — 
the  poetry  of  action.  It  has  been  justly  said  that  *'  he  was  sel- 
dom taken  by  surprise,  never  shrunk  from  danger,  nor  cowered 
beneath  exposure  and  fatigue."  So  accurate  were  his  woodland 
observations  and  memory,  that  he  recognized  an  ash-tree  which 
he  had  notched  twenty  years  before,  to  identify  a  locality ;  and 
proved  the  accuracy  of  his  designation  by  stripping  off  the  new 
bark,  and  exposing  the  marks  of  his  axe  beneath.     His  aim  was 


DANIELBOONE.  55 

SO  certain,  that  he  could  with  ease  bark  a  squirrel,  that  is,  bring 
down  the  animal,  when  on  the  top  of  the  loftiest  tree,  by  knock- 
ing off  the  bark  immediately  beneath,  killing  him  by  the  concus- 
sion. 

The  union  of  beauty  and  terror  in  the  life  of  a  pioneer,  of  so 
much  natural  courage  and  thoughtfulness  as  Boone,  is  one  of  its 
most  significant  features.  We  have  followed  his  musing  steps 
through  the  wide,  umbrageous  solitudes  he  loved,  and  marked  the 
contentment  he  experienced  in  a  log  hut,  and  by  a  camp-fire ;  but 
over  this  attractive  picture  there  ever  impended  the  shadow  of 
peril,  in  the  form  of  a  stealthy  and  cruel  foe,  the  wolf,  disease, 
and  exposure  to  the  elements.  Enraged  at  the  invasion  of  their 
ancient  hunting-grounds,  the  Indians  hovered  near ;  while  asleep 
in  the  jungle,  following  the  plough,  or  at  his  frugal  meal,  the 
pioneer  was  liable  to  be  shot  down  by  an  unseen  rifle,  and  sur- 
rounded by  an  ambush  ;  from  the  tranquil  pursuits  of  agriculture, 
at  any  moment,  he  might  be  summoned  to  the  battle-field,  to  res- 
cue a  neighbor's  property,  or  defend  a  solitary  outpost.  The 
senses  become  acute,  the  mind  vigilant,  and  the  tone  of  feeling 
chivalric,  under  such  discipline.  That  life  has  a  peculiar  dignity, 
even  in  the  midst  of  privation,  and  however  devoid  of  refined  cul- 
ture, which  is  entirely  self-dependent  both  for  sustainment  and 
protection.  It  has,  too,  a  singular  freshness  and  animation,  the 
more  genial  from  being  naturally  inspired.  Compare  the  spas- 
modic efforts  at  hilarity,  the  forced  speech,  and  hackneyed  expres- 
sion, of  the  fashionable  drawing-room,  with  the  candid  mirth  and 
gallant  spirit  born  of  the  woodland  and  the  chase,  —  the  power- 
ful sinews  and  well-braced  nerves  of  the  pioneer  with  the  languid 
pulse  of  the  metropolitan  exquisite,  —  and  it  seems  as  if  the 
fountain  of  youth  still  bubbled  up  in  some  deep  recess  of  the 
forest.  Philosophy,  too,  as  well  as  health,  is  attainable  in  the 
woods,  as  Shakspeare  has  illustrated  in  '-As  You  Like  It,"  and 
Boone  by  his  example  and  habitual  sentiments.  He  said  to  his 
brother,  when  they  had  lived  for  months  in  the  yet  unexplored 
wilds  of  Kentucky,  "You  see  how  little  human  nature  requires. 
It  is  in  our  own  hearts,  rather  than  in  the  things  around  us,  that 
we  are  to  seek  felicity.  A  man  may  be  happy  in  any  state.  It 
only  asks  a  perfect  resignation  to  the  will  of  Providence."     It  is 


56  THE     PIONEER. 

remarkable  that  the  two  American  characters  which  chiefly  inter- 
ested Byron  were  Patrick  Henry  and  Daniel  Boone,  —  the  one 
for  his  gift  of  oratory,  and  the  other  for  his  philosophical  content, 
—  both  so  directly  springing  from  the  resources  of  nature. 

There  is  an  affinity  between  man  and  nature,  which  conven- 
tional habits  keep  in  abeyance,  but  do  not  extinguish.-  It  is 
manifested  in  the  prevalent  taste  for  scenery,  and  the  favor  so 
readily  bestowed  upon  its  graphic  delineation  in  art  or  literature; 
but,  in  addition  to  the  poetic  love  of  nature,  as  addressed  to  the 
sense  of  beauty,  or  that  ardent  curiosity  to  explore  its  laws  and 
phenomena  which  finds  expression  in  natural  science,  there  is  an 
instinct  that  leads  to  a  keen  relish  of  nature  in  her  primeval 
state,  and  a  facility  in  embracing  the  life  she  offers  in  her  wild 
and  solitary  haunts ;  a  feeling  that  seems  to  have  survived  the 
influences  of  civilization,  and  develops,  when  encouraged,  by  the 
inevitable  law  of  animal  instinct.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  meet 
witli  this  passion  for  nature  among  those  whose  lives  have  been 
devoted  to  objects  apparently  alien  to  its  existence.  Sportsmen, 
pedestrians,  and  citizens  of  rural  propensities,  indicate  its  modi- 
fied action,  while  it  is  more  emphatically  exhibited  by  the  volun- 
teers who  join  in  the  caravans  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the 
deserts  of  the  East,  and  the  forests  of  Central  and  South  Amer- 
ica, with  no  ostensible  purpose  but  the  gratification  arising 
from  intimate  contact  with  nature  in  her  luxuriant  or  barren 
solitudes. 

To  one  having  but  an  inkling  of  this  sympathy,  with  a  nervous 
organization  and  an  observant  mind,  there  is,  indeed,  no  restora- 
tive of  the  frame,  or  sweet  diversion  to  the  mind,  like  a  day  in  the 
woods.  The  effect  of  roaming  a  treeless  plain,  or  riding  over  a 
cultivated  region,  is  entirely  different.  There  is  a  certain  tran- 
quillity and  balm  in  the  forest,  that  heals  and  calms  the  fevered 
spirit,  and  quickens  the  languid  pulses  of  the  weary  and  the  dis- 
heartened with  the  breath  of  hope.  Its  influence  on  the  animal 
spirits  is  remarkable ;  and  the  senses,  released  from  the  din  and 
monotonous  limits  of  streets  and  houses,  luxuriate  in  the  breadth 
of  vision,  and  the  rich  variety  of  form,  hue,  and  odor,  which  only 
scenes  like  these  afford.  As  we  walk  in  the  shadow  of  lofty  trees, 
the  repose  and  awe  of  heart  that  breathes  from  a  sacred  temple 


DANIELBOONE.  57 

gradually  lulls  the  tide  of  care,  and  exalts  despondency  into  wor- 
ship. As  the  eye  tracks  the  flickering  light  glancing  upon  herb- 
age, it  brightens  to  recognize  the  wild  flowers  that  are  associated 
with  the  innocent  enjoyments  of  childhood ;  to  note  the  delicate 
blossom  of  the  wild  hyacinth,  see  the  purple  asters  wave  in  the 
breeze,  and  the  scarlet  berries  of  the  winter-green  glow  amoiij; 
the  dead  leaves,  or  mark  the  circling  flight  of  the  startled  crow, 
and  the  sudden  leap  of  the  squirrel. 

We  pause  unconsciously  to  feel  the  springy  velvet  of  the  moss- 
clump,  pluck  up  the  bulb  of  the  broad-leaved  sanguinaria,  or 
examine  the  star-like  flower  of  the  liverwort ;  and  then,  lifting  our 
gaze  to  the  canopy  beneath  which  we  lovingly  stroll,  greet,  as 
old  and  endeared  acquaintances,  the  noble  trees  in  their  autumn 
splendor,  —  the  crimson  dogwood,  yellow  hickory,  or  scarlet 
maple,  whose  brilliant  hues  mingle  and  glow  in  the  sunshine  like 
the  stained  windows  of  an  old  gothic  cathedral ;  and  we  fe^  1  that 
it  is  as  true  to  fact  as  to  poetry  that  "  the  groves  were  God's  first 
temples."  Every  fern  at  our  feet  is  as  daintily  carved  as  the 
frieze  of  a  Grecian  column ;  every  vista  down  which  we  look 
wears  more  than  Egyptian  solemnity ;  the  ^vithercd  leaves  rustle 
like  the  sighs  of  penitents,  and  the  lofty  tree-tops  send'  forth  a 
voice  like  that  of  prayer.  Fresh  vines  encumber  aged  trunks, 
solitary  leaves  quiver  slowly  to  the  earth,  a  twilight  hue  chastens 
the  brightness  of  noon,  and  all  around  is  the  charm  of  a  mys- 
terious quietude  and  seclusion  that  induces  a  dreamy  and  reve- 
rential mood ;  while  health  seems  wafted  from  the  balsamic  pine 
and  the  elastic  turf,  and  over  all  broods  the  serene  blue  firma- 
ment. 

If  such  refreshment  and  inspiration  are  obtainable  from  a  cas- 
ual and  temporary  visit  to  the  woods,  we  may  imagine  the  effect 
of  a  lengthened  sojourn  in  the  primeval  forest  upon  a  nature 
alive  to  its  beauty,  wildncss,  and  solitude ;  and  when  we  add  to 
these  the  zest  of  adventure,  the  pride  of  discovery,  and  that  feel- 
ing of  sublimity  which  arises  from  a  consciousness  of  danger 
always  impending,  it  is  easy  to  realize  in  the  experience  of  a  pio- 
neer at  once  the  most  romantic  and  practical  elements  of  life.  In 
American  history,  rich  as  it  is  in  this  species  of  adventure,  no 
individual  is  so  attractive  and  prominent  as  Daniel  Boone.     The 


58  THE    PIONEER. 

singular  union  in  his  character  of  benevolence  and  hardihood, 
bold  activity  and  a  meditative  disposition,  the  hazardous  enter- 
prises and  narrow  escapes  recorded  of  him,  and  the  resolute  tact 
he  displayed  in  all  emergencies,  are  materials  quite  adequate  to 
a  thrilling  narrative ;  but  when  we  add  to  the  external  phases  of 
interest  that  absolute  passion  for  forest  life  which  distinguished 
him,  and  the  identity  of  his  name  with  the  early  fortunes  of  the 
West,  he  seems  to  combine  the  essential  features  of  a  genuine 
historical  and  thoroughly  individual  character. 


THE  MAN  OF  LETTERS 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY. 


The  character  of  Southej,  as  revealed  in  his  biography,  is 
essentially  that  of  a  man  of  letters.  Perhaps  the  annals  of  Eng- 
lish literature  furnish  no  more  complete  example  of  the  kind,  in 
the  most  absolute  sense  of  the  term.  His  taste  for  books  was  of 
the  most  general  description  ;  he  sought  every  species  of  knowl- 
edge, and  appears  to  have  been  equally  contented  to  write  his- 
tory, reviews,  poems,  and  letters.  Indeed,  for  more  than  twenty 
years  his  life  at  Keswick  was  systematically  divided  between 
these  four  departments  of  writing. 

No  man  having  any  pretension  to  genius  ever  succeeded  in 
reducing  literature  to  so  methodical  and  sustained  a  process.  It 
went  on  with  the  punctuality  and  productiveness  of  a  cotton  mill 
or  a  nail  factory ;  exactly  so  much  rhyming,  collating,  and  proof- 
reading, and  so  much  of  chronicle  and  correspondence,  in  the 
twenty-four  hours.  We  see  Robert  Southey,  as  he  points  him- 
self, seated  at  his  desk,  in  an  old  black  coat,  long  worsted  panta- 
loons and  gaiters  in  one,  and  a  green  shade;  and  we  feel  the 
truth  of  his  own  declaration  that  this  is  his  history.  Occasion- 
ally he  goes  down  to  the  river-side,  behind  the  house,  and  throws 
stones  until  his  arms  ache,  plays  with  the  cat,  or  takes  a  mountain 
walk  with  the  children.  The  event  of  his  life  is  the  publication 
of  a  book ;  his  most  delightful  hour  that  in  which  he  sees  the 
handsomely  printed  title-page  that  announces  his  long  meditated 
work  ready,  at  last,  to  be  ushered  in  elegant  attire  before  the 


60  THE     MAN     OF     LETTERS. 

public  ;  his  most  pleasing  excitement  to  read  congratulatory  let- 
ters from  admiring  friends,  or  an  appreciative  critique  in  a  fresh 
number  of  the  "  Quarterly."  * 

Minor  pastimes  he  finds  in  devising  literary  castles  in  the  air, 
projecting  epics  on  suggestive  and  unused  themes,  giving  here 
and  there  a  finishing  touch  to  sentence  or  couplet,  possessing 
himself  of  a  serviceable  but  rare  tome,  transcribing  a  preface 
with  all  the  conscious  dignity  of  authorship,  or  a  dedication  with 
the  complacent  zeal  of  a  gifted  friend.  From  the  triple,  yet  har- 
monious and  systematic  life  of  the  country,  the  study,  and  the 
nursery,  we  see  him,  at  long  intervals,  depart  for  a  visit  to  Lon- 
don, to  confabulate  with  literary  lions,  greet  old  college  friends, 
make  new  bargains  with  publishers,  and  become  a  temporary 
diner-out ;  or  he  breaks  away  from  domestic  and  literary  employ- 
ment in  his  retreat  among  the  hills,  for  a  rapid  continental  tour, 
during  which  not  an  incident,  a  natural  fact,  an  historical  remi- 
niscence, a  political  conjecture,  or  a  wayside  phenomenon,  is 
allowed  to  escape  him.  Though  wearied  to  the  last  degree,  at 
nightfall  he  notes  his  experience  with  care,  as  material  for 
future  use  ;  and  hurries  back,  with  presents  for  the  children  and 
a  voluminous  diary,  to  resume  his  pencraft ;  until  the  advent  of 
summer  visitors  obliges  him  to  exchange  a  while  the  toils  of 
authorship  for  the  duties  of  hospitality. 

To  these  regularly  succeeding  occupations  may  be  added  the 
privileges  of  distinction,  the  acquisition  of  new  and  interesting 
friends,  of  testimonies  of  respect  from  institutions  and  private 
admirers  ;  and  inevitable  trials,  such  as  occasional  assaults  from 
the  critics,  or  a  birth  or  bereavement  in  the  household.  Seques- 
tered and  harmless  we  cannot  but  admit  such  a  life  to  be,  and, 
when  chosen  from  native  inclination,  as  desirable  for  the  individ- 
ual as  can  be  imagined,  in  a  world  where  the  vicissitude  and  care 
of  active  life  are  so  apt  to  interfere  with  comfort  and  peace.  At 
the  age  of  thirty-two,  when  thus  settled  at  Keswick,  Southey 
gratefully  estimated  its  worth  in  this  point  of  view:  "This  is 
my  life,  which,  if  it  be  not  a  very  merry  one,  is  yet  as  happy 
as  heart  could  wish." 

*  Coleridge  once  said,  "  I  can't  think  of  Southey  without  seeing  him  either 
mending  or  using  a  pen." 


ROBERT      SOUTHEY.  61 

Southej  left  a  somewhat  minute  and  very  graphic  sketch  of  his 
childhood,  parts  of  which  are  written  in  his  happiest  vein.  Some 
of  the  anecdotes  are  significant,  but  more  as  illustrations  of  char- 
acter than  genius.  lie  was  bookish,  moral,  and  domestic,  inquir- 
ing, and  observant ;  but  seems  not  to  have  exhibited  any  of  that 
delight  in  the  sense  of  wonder  that  kept  the  boy  Schiller  rocking 
in  a  tree  to  watch  the  lightning,  or  the  generous  ardor  that  made 
Byron  a  schoolboy  champion,  or  the  oppressive  sensibility  that 
weighetl  down  the  spirit  of  young  life  in.  Alfieri's  breast.  His 
autobiography,  not  less  than  his  literary  career,  evinces  the  clever 
man  of  letters  rather  than  the  surpassing  man  of  genius.  It  is 
characteristic  of  this  that,  between  the  ages  of  eight  and  twelve, 
he  expressed  the  conviction  that  "  it  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world  to  write  a  play."  Such  is  the  natural  language  of  talent; 
that  of  genius  would  be,   "  it  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world." 

The  most  effective  portrait  in  the  part  of  his  memoirs  written 
by  himself  is  that  of  his  Aunt  Tyler.  It  is  evidently  drawn  from 
the  life,  and  would  answer  for  a  character  in  the  very  best  class 
of  modern  novels.  As  a  revelation  of  himself,  the  most  excellent 
traits  are  the  disposition,  spirit,  and  state  of  feeling  displayed. 
Southey  obviously  possessed  steady  affections,  self-respect,  and  a 
natural  sense  of  duty.  The  embryo  reformer  is  indicated  by  his 
essay  against  flogging  in  school ;  and  no  better  proof  of  his  relia- 
bility can  be  imagined  than  the  fact  that  several  of  his  earliest 
friendships  continued  unabated  throughout  life.  His  sketches  of 
teachera,  classmates,  and  the  scenes  of  boyhood,  are  pleasing, 
natural,  and  authentic. 

Like  most  literary  men,  Southey  in  youth  took  an  interest  in 
science,  and  dabbled  in  botany  and  entomology ;  but  he  soon  aban- 
doned insects  and  flowers,  except  for  purposes  of  metaphor.  His 
education,  too,  like  that  of  the  majority  of  professed  authors,  was 
irregular,  versatile,  and  unexact,  vibrating  between  the  study  of 
text-books  in  a  formal,  and  the  perusal  of  chosen  ones  in  a  relish- 
ing manner.  His  love  of  the  quaint  in  expression,  his  taste  for 
natural  history,  church  lore,  ballads,  historic  incident,  and  curious 
philosophy,  are  richly  exemplified  in  the  specimens  of  the  "  Com- 
mon-place Book,"  recently  published,  and  especially  in  that  frag- 
mentary, but  most  suggestive  work,  "The  Doctor;"  and  these 


62  THE    MAN     OF     LETTERS. 

but  carry  out  the  aims  and  tastes  foreshadowed  in  his  youthful 
studies. 

Marked  out  by  natural  tastes  for  a  life  of  books,  we  recognize 
the  instinct  in  the  delight  he  experienced  when  first  possessed  of 
a  set  of  Newberry's  juvenile  publications,  the  zest  with  which  he 
wrote  school  themes,  invented  little  dramas,  and  fraternized  with 
a  village  editor,  not  less  than  in  its  mature  development,  when 
taking  the  shape  of  beautiful  quartos  with  the  imprimatur  of 
Murray  or  the  Longmans.  The  sight  of  a  fair  finished  page 
of  his  first  elaborate  metrical  composition,  "Joan  of  Arc,"  he 
acknowledges  infected  him  with  the  true  author  mania,  and 
henceforth  he  was  only  happy  over  pencraft  or  typography. 

In  his  memoirs  we  find  new  evidence  of  the  laws  of  mind  and 
health,  and  the  fatal  consequences  of  their  infringement.  To 
Southey's  kind  activity  we  are  indebted  for  a  knowledge  of  the 
most  affecting  instance  in  English  literature  of  early  genius  pre- 
maturely lost,  that  of  Kirke  White ;  and  two  other  cases  of 
youthful  aspiration  for  literary  honor  blighted  by  death  were 
confided  to  his  benevolent  sympatliy ;  but  the  great  intellectual 
promise,  rapid  development,  and  untimely  loss  of  his  son,  is  one 
of  the  most  pathetic  episodes  of  his  life.  His  correspondence  at 
the  period  explains  the  apparent  incongruity  between  occasional 
evidences  of  strong  feeling  and  an  habitual  calmness  of  tone. 
His  nature  was  so  balanced  as  to  admit,  as  a  general  rule,  of 
perfect  self-control.  He  repeatedly  asserts  that  the  coldness 
attributed  to  him  is  not  real.  In  this  great  bereavement,  he 
seems  to  have  perfectly  exercised  the  power  of  living  in  his  mind, 
and  finding  a  refuge  from  moral  suffering  in  mental  activity.  But 
one  of  the  most  impressive  physiological  as  well  as  intellectual 
lessons  to  be  drawn  from  Southey's  life  is  in  his  own  personal 
experience. 

We  have  a  striking  example  of  the  need  of  a  legitimate  hygiene 
for  the  assiduous  writer,  and  the  fatal  consequence  of  its  neglect. 
To  his  scholar's  temperament  and  habits  may  be,  in  a  measure, 
ascribed  Southey's  conservatism ;  and  it  is  equally  obvious  how 
the  same  causes  gradually  modified  his  physical  constitution,  and, 
through  this,  the  character  of  his  mind.  We  believe  it  is  now 
admitted  that,  where  the  temperament  is  not  indicated  with  great 


ROBERT      SOUTIIEY.  63 

predominance,  it  may  be  almost  entirely  changed  by  diversity  of 
circumstances  and  habits.  The  influence  of  the  brain  and  ner- 
vous system  is  so  pervading  that,  where  the  vocation  constantly 
stimulates  them,  and  leaves  the  muscles  and  circulation  in  a  great 
degree  inactive,  remarkable  modifications  occur  in  the  animal 
economy ;  and  so  intimately  are  its  functions  associated  with 
mental  and  moral  phenomena,  that  it  is  quite  unphilosophical  to 
attempt  to  estimate  or  even  analyze  character  without  taking  its 
agency  into  view.  The  sedentary  life  and  cerebral  activity  of 
Sou  they  seem  to  have  very  soon  subdued  his  feelings.  We  per- 
ceive, in  the  tone  of  his  letters,  a  slow  but  certain  diminution  of 
animal  spirits  ;  and,  now  and  then,  a  prophetic  consciousness  of 
the  frail  tenure  upon  which  he  held,  not  his  intelligent  spirit,  but 
his  mental  machinery,  the  incessant  action  of  which  is  adequate 
to  explain  its  melancholy  and  premature  decay.  The  time  will 
come  when  his  case  will  be  recorded  as  illustrative  of  the  laws  of 
body  and  mind  in  their  mutual  relations, —  a  subject  which 
Combe,  Madden,  and  other  popular  writers,  have  shown  to  be 
fraught  with  teachings  of  the  widest  charity  for  what  are  called 
''  the  infirmities  of  genius." 

How  many  pathetic  chapters  are  yet  to  be  written  on  this  pro- 
lific theme,  before  the  world  is  sufficiently  enlightened  to  know 
how  to  treat  her  gifted  children  !  We  need  not  go  to  Tasso's 
cell  to  aAvaken  our  sympathies  in  this  regard ;  from  the  fierce 
insanity  of  Swift  and  Collins,  to  the  morbid  irritability  or  gloom 
of  Johnson,  Pope,  and  Byron,  and  the  imbecile  age  of  Moore 
and  Southey,  the  history  of  English  authorship  is  replete  with 
solemn  warnings  to  use  even  the  noblest  endowments  of  humanity 
with  meek  and  severe  circumspection.  God  is  not  less  worshipped 
by  select  intelligences,  tlirough  fidelity  to  the  natural  laws,  than 
by  celebrating  his  glory  in  the  triumphs  of  art. 

In  a  letter  to  Sharon  Turner,  in  1817,  Southey  remarks: 
"  My  spirits  rather  than  my  disposition  have  undergone  a  great 
change.  They  used  to  be  exuberant  beyond  those  of  every  other 
person;  my  heart  seemed  to  possess  a  perpetual  fountain  of 
hilarity ;  no  circumstances  of  study,  or  atmosphere,  or  solitude, 
aifected  it ;  and  the  ordinary  vexations  and  cares  of  life,  even 
when  they  showered  upon  me,  fell  off  like  hail  from  a  pent-house. 


64  THE     MAN      OF     LETTERS. 

That  s})rwg  is  dried  up.  I  cannot  now  preserve  an  appearance 
of  it  at  all  without  an  effort,  and  no  prospect  in  this  world 
delights  me  except  that  of  the  next."  Although  he  often  attrib- 
uted this  change  to  special  causes,  and  particularly  to  the 
bereavement  which  bore  so  heavily  on  his  heart,  he  was,  at  the 
same  time,  soon  aware  that  the  recuperative  energies  of  his  nature 
were  essentially  impaired.  '^  It  is,"  he  writes  to  another  friend, 
"  between  ourselves,  a  matter  of  surprise  that  this  bodily  machine 
of  mine  should  have  continued  its  operations  with  so  few  de- 
rangements, knowing,  as  I  do,  its  excessive  susceptibility  to  many 
deranging  causes."  These  shadows  deepened  as  time  passed  on. 
and  found  him  intent  upon  mental  labor,  when  nature  impera- 
tively demanded  freedom,  variety,  the  comedy  of  life,  and  the 
atmosphere  of  a  serene,  cheerful,  and  unhackneyed  existence. 

There  was  nothing,  however,  in  the  native  hue  of  Southey's 
mind  that  betokened  any  tendency  to  disease.  On  the  contrary, 
his  tone  of  feeling  was  singularly  moderate,  his  estimate  of  life 
rather  philosophic  than  visionary,  and,  for  a  poet,  he  scarcely 
has  been  equalled  for  practical  wisdom  and  methodical  self-gov- 
ernment. Instead  of  wishing  newly-married  people  happiness, 
which  he  considered  superfluous,  he  wished  them  patience ;  in 
travelling,  he  was  remarkable  for  making  the  best  of  everything ; 
he  cherished  a  tranquil  religious  faith  ;  he  systematized  his  life, 
and,  instead  of  lamenting  the  dreams  of  youth  as  the  only  source 
of  real  enjoyment  in  life,  he  says,  ''Our  happiness,  as  we  grow 
older,  is  more  in  quantity  and  higher  in  degree  as  well  as  kind." 

Another  wholesome  quality  he  largely  possessed  was  candor. 
He  bore  with  exemplary  patience,  as  a  general  rule,  the  malev- 
olence of  criticism,  suffered  with  few  murmurs  the  indignity  of 
Gifford's  mutilations  of  his  reviews,  and  seemed  to  exhibit 
acrimony  only  when  assailed  by  a  radical,  or  when  he  alluded  to 
Bonaparte,  whose  most  appropriate  situation,  through  his  whole 
career,  he  declared  to  have  been  when  sleeping  beside  a  fire  made 
of  human  bones  in  the  desert.  He  had  the  magnanimity  at  once 
to  confess  the  genuine  success  of  the  American  navy,  at  a  time 
when  it  was  common  in  England  to  doubt  even  the  testimony  of 
facts  on  the  subject.  "  It  is  in  vain,"  he  writes,  ''to  treat  the 
matter  lightly,  or  seek  to  conceal  from  ourselves  the  extent  of  the 


ROBERT     SOUTHEY.  65 

evil.  Our  naval  superiority  is  destroyed."  Of  American  liter- 
ature, at  an  earlier  period,  he  declared,  with  more  truth  than  now 
could  be  warranted,  that  "  the  Americans,  since  the  Revolution, 
have  not  produced  a  single  poet  who  has  been  heard  of  on  this  side 
of  the  Atlantic."  Subsequently,  he  was,  however,  the  first  to 
do  justice  to  the  poetical  merits  of  Maria  del  Occidente,  and 
numbered  several  congenial  literary  friends  among  her  country- 
men. A  more  versatile  course  might  have  contributed  greatly 
to  Southey's  sustained  vigor  of  mind.  His  early  life  was, 
indeed,  sufficiently  marked  by  vicissitude ;  he  was  successively  a 
law-student,  lecturer,  private  secretary,  traveller,  and  author,  and 
thought  of  becoming  a  librarian  and  a  consul ;  but  the  result 
was  a  firm  reversion  to  his  primary  tastes  for  rural  life  and  books. 
It  is  curious,  as  a  psychological  study,  to  trace  the  lapse  of 
youth  into  manhood  and  senility,  as  indicated  in  the  writings  of 
men  of  talent,  and  observe  how  differently  time  and  experience 
affect  them,  according  to  the  elements  of  their  characters.  Some 
have  their  individuality  of  purpose  and  feeling  gradually  overlaid 
by  the  influences  of  their  age  and  position,  and  in  others  it  only 
asserts  itself  with  more  vehemence.  There  is  every  degree  of 
independence  and  mobility,  from  the  isolated  hardihood  of  a 
Dante  to  the  fertile  aptitude  of  a  Brougham.  It  was  the  normal 
condition  of  Southey  to  be  conservative  ;  taste  and  habit,  affec- 
tion and  temperament,  combined  to  reconcile  him  to  things  as 
they  are,  or,  at  least,  to  wean  him  from  the  restless  life  of  a 
reformer.  An  intellectual  friend  of  mine,  noted  for  his  love  of 
ease,  and  whose  creed  was  far  more  visionary  than  practical,  sur- 
prised a  circle,  on  one  occasion,  with  his  earnest  advocacy  of  some 
political  measure,  and  sighed  heavily,  as  he  added,  "  Vigilance  is 
the  eternal  price  of  liberty."  "  But  why,"  asked  a  companion, 
"  do  yoii  put  on  the  watchman's  cap?"  The  inquiry  .was  appo- 
site ;  he  had  no  vocation  to  fight  in  the  vanguard  of  opinion. 
And  this  seems  to  us  a  more  charitable  way  of  accounting  for 
Southey's  change  of  views,  than  to  join  his  opponents  in  ascribing 
it  to  unalloyed  selfishness.* 

♦  ••  In  all  his  domestic  relations  Southey  was  the  most  amiable  of  men,  but 
he  had  no  general  philanthropy  ;  he  was  what  you  call  a  cold  man.  I  spent 
Bome  time  with    him  at  Lord   Lonsdale's,  in  company  with  Wordsworth  and 

6* 


66  THE     MAN     OF     LETTERS. 

To  the  secluded  lUUraieur^  'watching  over  his  gifted  invalid  boy 
amid  romantic  lakes  and  mountains,  the  calm  and  nature-loving 
Wordsworth  was  a  more  desirable  compaijion  than  Godwin,  to 
whom,  at  a  previous  era,  he  acknowledged  himself  under  essential 
intellectual  obligations.  His  wife,  the  gentle  and  devoted  Edith, 
might  have  objected  to  such  an  inmate  as  Mary  Wolstonecraft, 
whom  her  husband  preferred  to  all  the  literary  lions  durmg  his 
early  visits  to  London ;  and  it  was  far  more  agreeable  to  "  counter- 
act sedition  "  in  his  quiet  studio  at  Keswick,  than  to  roughly  expe- 
rience Pantisocracy  in  America  ;  while  a  man  of  sterner  mould 
might  be  pardoned  for  preferring  a  picnic  glorification  over  the 
battle  of  Waterloo,  on  the  top  of  Skiddaw,  to  a  lonely  struggle 
for  human  rights  against  the  overwhelming  tide  of  popular 
scorn,  which  drove  the  more  adventurous  and  poetic  Shelley  into 
exile.  All  Southey's  compassion,  however,  so  oracularly  ex- 
pressed for  that  sensitive  and  heroic  spirit,  derogates  not  a  par- 
ticle from  the  superior  nobility  of  soul  for  which  generous 
thinkers  cherish  his  memory.  We  can,  however,  easily  follow 
the  natural  gradations  by  which  the  boy  Southey,  whose  ideal 
was  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  and  the  youth  Southey,  intent  upon 
human  progress  and  social  reformation,  became  the  man  Southey, 
a  good  citizen,  industrious  author,  exemplary  husband  and  father, 
and  most  loyal  subject.  Indeed,  the  conservative  mood  begins 
to  appear  even  before  any  avowed  change  in  his  opinions.  Soon 
after  his  return  from  the  first  visit  to  Lisbon,  while  hesitating 
what  profession  to  adopt,  and  while  his  friends  were  discouraged 
at  the  apparent  speculative  recklessness  and  desultory  life  he 
indulged,  we  find  him  writing  to  Grosvenor,  one  of  his  most  inti- 
mate friends,  "  I  am  conversing  with  you  now  in  that  easy,  calm^ 
good-humored  state  of  mbid  which  is,  perhaps,  the  summu?7i 
bonum  ;  the  less  we  think  of  the  world  the  better.  My  feelings 
were  once  like  an  ungovernable  horse ;  now  I  have  tamed 
Bucephalus  ;  he  retams  his  spirit  and  his  strength,  but  they  are 
made  useful^  and  he  shall  not  break  my  neck." 

This  early  visit  to  Lisbon,  when  his  mind  was  in  its  freshest 

others  ;  and,  while  the  rest  of  the  party  were  walking  about,  talking  and  amua- 
.ing  themselves,  Southey  preferred  sitting  solus  in  the  library."  —  Rogers* 
STable  Talk. 


ROBERT      SOUTHEY.  67 

activity,  attracted  him  to  the  literature  of  Spain  and  Portugal ; 
and  the  local  associations,  which  gave  them  so  vivid  a  charm  to 
his  taste,  imparted  kindred  life  to  his  subsequent  critiques  and 
historical  sketches  devoted  to  these  scenes  and  people.  They 
furnish  another  strikin}]:  instance  of  the  felicitous  manner  in  which 
the  experience  of  foreign  travel  and  the  results  of  study  coalesce 
in  literary  productions. 

Authorship,  indeed,  was  so  exclusively  the  vocation  of  Southey 
that  his  life  may  be  said  to  have  been  identified  with  it ;  yet  pur- 
sued, as  we  have  seen,  in  a  spirit  often  mechanical,  we  are  not 
surprised  that,  while  he  felt  himself  adapted  to  the  pursuit,  he 
was  sometimes  conscious  of  that  mediocrity  which  is  the  inevitable 
fruit  of  a  wilful  tension  of  the  mind.  Thus,  while  to  one  friend 
he  writes,  "  One  happy  choice  I  made  when  I  betook  myself  to 
literature  as  my  business  in  life ;"  to  another,  in  1815,  he  declares, 
'*  I  have  the  disheartening  conviction  that  my  best  is  done,  and 
that  to  add  to  the  bulk  of  my  works  will  not  be  to  add  to  their 
estimation."  Yet  Southey,  like  all  genuine  authors,  cherished 
his  dream  of  glory,  and  probably  anticipated  enduring  renown 
from  his  poetry.  The  mechanical  spirit  of  his  literary  toil,  how- 
ever, was  carried  into  verse.  He  set  about  designing  a  poem  as 
he  did  a  history  or  a  volume  of  memoirs,  and  proceeded  to  fill  up 
the  outline  with  the  same  complacent  alacrity.  Many  of  these 
works  exhibit  great  ingenuity  of  construction,  both  as  regards 
form  and  language.  They  are  striking  examples  of  the  inventive 
faculty,  and  show  an  extraordinary  command  of  language ;  in  this 
latter  regard,  some  of  his  verses  are  the  most  curious  in  our 
literature; — the  ''Fall  of  Lodore"  is  an  instance.  But  it  is 
obvious  that,  unless  fused  by  the  glow  of  sentiment,  however 
aptly  constructed,  elaborate  versified  tales  can  scarcely  be  ranked 
among  the  standard  poems  of  any  language.  The  best  passages 
of  his  long  poems  are  highly  imaginative,  but  the  style  is  diffuse, 
the  interest  complicated,  and  there  is  a  want  of  human  interest 
that  prevents  any  strong  enlistment  of  the  sympathies.  They 
have  not  the  picturesque  and  living  attraction  of  Scott,  nor  yet 
the  natural  tenderness  of  Burns;  but  are  melo-dramatic,  and 
make  us  wonder  at  the  author's  fertility  of  invention,  rather  than 
become  attached  to  its  fruits. 


68  THE     MAN     OF     LETTERS. 

One  of  the  most  striking  instances  of  want  of  discrimination  in 
the  critical  tone  of  the  day,  was  the  habit  of  designating  Cole- 
ridge, Wordsworth,  and  Southej,  under  the  same  general  term. 
The  only  common  ground  for  calling  them  the  Lake  School  was 
the  fact  that  they  each  resided  among  the  lakes  of  Cumberland 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  The  diffuse,  reflective,  philosophic 
muse  of  Wordsworth  is  as  essentially  different  from  the  mystic 
and  often  profoundly  tender  sentiment  of  Coleridge,  as  both  are 
from  the  elaborate  chronicles  and  rhetorical  artifice  of  Southey. 
His  "Pilgrimage  to  Waterloo  "  is  an  apt  and  clever  journal  in 
verse,  occasionally,  from  its  personal  style  and  simplicity,  quite 
attractive ;  his  laureate  odes  have  a  respectable  sound,  and  fre- 
quently a  commendable  sense,  but  rarely  any  bardic  fire  or 
exquisite  grace.  In  a  word,  although  there  is  much  to  admire 
in  Southey's  poetry  as  the  work  of  a  creative  fancy  and  the  result 
of  research  and  facility,  as  well  as  invention  in  the  use  of  lan- 
guage, we  seldom  find,  in  perusing  his  works,  any  of  those 
"Elysian  corners  of  intuition,"  where  Leigh  Hunt  speaks  of 
comparing  notes  with  the  reader.  The  amplitude,  variety,  and 
tact  of  constructive  talent,  and  not  the  glow  and  mystery  of 
genius,  win  us  to  his  page.  It  informs,  entertains,  and  seldom 
offends  ;  but  rarely  melts,  kindles,  or  nerves  the  spirit. 

His  most  obstinate  admirers  cannot  but  admit  that,  as  poems, 
*' Joan  of  Arc,"  "  Madoc,"  and  "Roderic,"  have  many  tedious 
passages.  They  are  fluent,  authentic  chronicles,  recorded  in  a 
strain  that  so  often  lapses  from  the  spirit  and  dignity  of  the  muse 
as  to  read  like  mere  prose.  Here  and  there,  a  graphic  descrip- 
tive sketch  or  felicitous  epithet  redeems  the  narrative ;  but  no 
one  can  wonder  that,  in  an  age  when  Byron  individualized  human 
passion  in  the  most  kindling  rhyme,  when  Crabbe  described  so 
truthfully  humble  life,  and  Shelley  touched  the  ideal  spirit  with 
his  aerial  fantasy,  a  species  of  poetry  comparatively  so  distant 
from  the  associations  of  the  heart  should  fail  to  achieve  popularity. 
Indeed,  Southey  recognized  the  fact,  and  seemed  not  unwilling 
to  share  the  favor  of  a  limited  but  select  circle  with  Landor  and 
others,  who,  instead  of  universal  suffrage,  gain  the  special  admi- 
ration of  the  few.  No  author,  however,  cherished  a  greater  faith 
in  literature  aa  a  means  of  reputation.     "  Literary  fame,"  he 


ROBERT      SOUTIIEY.  6S 

says,  ''  is  the  only  fame  of  which  a  wise  man  ought  to  be  ambi- 
tious, because  it  is  the  only  lasting  and  living  fame.  Bonaparte 
will  be  forgotten  before  his  time  in  purgatory  is  half  over,  or  but 
just  remembered,  like  Nimrod  or  other  cut- throats  of  antiquity, 
who  serve  us  for  the  commonplaces  of  declamation.  Put  out 
your  mind  in  a  great  poem,  and  you  will  exercise  authority  over 
the  feelings  and  opinions  of  mankind  as  long  as  the  language 
lasts." 

The  two  poems  upon  which  Southey  evidently  most  genially 
labored  are  "  Thalaba  "  and  "  The  Curse  of  Kehama."  They 
bear  the  most  distinct  traces  of  his  idiosyncrasies  as  evinced  in 
boyhood,  when  a  translation  of  the  "Jerusalem  Delivered" 
seems  to  hare  first  directly  appealed  to  his  poetic  instinct.  The 
scenes  of  enchantment  particularly  fascinated  him;  then  came 
"Ariosto"  and  "Spenser."  The  narrative  form,  and  the  im- 
aginative and  romantic  character  of  these  works,  harmonized  with 
Southey's  mind,  and  they  continued  his  poetic  vein  after  the  taste 
of  the  age  had  become  wedded  to  the  natural,  the  human,  and  the 
direct,  in  poetry.  His  tone  and  imagery  were  somewhat  modified 
by  Bowles  and  Coleridge  ;  but  he  remained  essentially  in  the  class 
of  romantic  and  narrative  bards,  in  whose  productions  general 
effects,  vague  dramatic  and  supernatural  charms,  and  heroic 
chronicles,  form  the  pervading  tniits.  Another  characteristic  of 
the  modem  poetry  he  lacked  was  concentration.  One  concise, 
vivid,  and  inspired  lyric  outlives  the  most  labored  epic.  Ster- 
ling's brief  tribute  to  "  Joan  of  Arc  "  brings  her  nearer  to  us 
than  Southey' s  quarto. 

As  works  of  art,  the  varied  rhyme  and  rhythm,  and  prolific 
fancy,  won  for  Southey's  long  poems  a  certain  degree  of  attention 
and  respect ;  but  he  is  remembered  more  for  certain  fine  passages 
than  for  entire  compositions.  In  these,  his  claim  to  the  title  of 
poet,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  asserts  itself;  and,  but  for 
these,  he  would  rank  only  as  a  clever  improvisatore.  Learning, 
indeed,  overlays  inspiration  in  his  long  poems.  He  faithfully 
explored  Welsh  annals  for  the  materials  of  "  Madoc,"  Hindoo 
mythology  and  Asiatic  scenery  for  the  "  Curse  of  Kehama,"  and 
Gothic  history  for  "  Roderic."  All  narrative  poems  are  some- 
what indebted  to  external  materials ;  but  these  must  be  fused,  as 


70  THE     MAN     OF     LETTERS. 

we  have  before  hinted,  into  a  consistent  and  vital  whole  bj  the 
glow  of  some  personal  sentiment,  ere  they  will  find  universal 
response.  Thus,  the  intense  consciousness  of  Bjron,  the  chivalric 
zeal  of  Campbell,  and  the  amorous  fancy  of  Moore,  give  a  life 
and  significance  to  their  stories  in  verse  that  invest  them  with  a 
sympathetic  atmosphere  and  unity  of  feeling.  There  is  little  of 
this  in  Southey's  narratives ;  they  are  more  ingenious  than  glow- 
ing, more  imaginative  than  natural;  and  they  entertain  more 
than  they  inspire.  He  seems  destitute  of  that  sacred  reserve 
which  renders  manners  so  efficient,  deepens  love's  channel,  and 
^^allows  truth  to  consciousness ;  that  instinctive  ^kuggestiveness,' 
which  is  a  great  secret  of  Dante's  power,  giving  sublime  intima- 
tions of  Tennyson's  exquisite  sentiment,  vaguely  hinting  the 
inexpressible,  arid  of  Wordsworth's  solemn  mysticism,  as  in  the 
''  Ode  on  the  Prospect  of  Immortality."  To  such  lofty  and  pro- 
found elements  the  poetry  of  Southey  has  no  claims;  but,  in 
descriptive  aptitude,  and  especially  in  rhetorical  efiect,  he  is 
sometimes  remarkable.  Occasionally,  in  these  qualities,  in  their 
simplicity,  he  reminds  us  of  the  old  dramatists ;  thus,  in  Madoc : 

**  The  masters  of  the  song 
In  azure  robes  were  robed  —  that  one  bright  hue. 
To  emblem  unity,  and  peace,  and  truth, 
Like  Heaven,  which  o'er  a  world  of  wickedness 
Spreads  ita  eternal  canopy  serene." 

And  again,  in  the  same  poem  : 

"  *T  is  pleasant,  by  the  cheerful  hearth,  to  hear 
Of  tempests  and  the  dangers  of  the  deep. 
And  pause  at  times  and  feel  that  we  arc  safe, 
Then  listen  to  the  perilous  tale  again, 
And  with  an  eager  and  suspended  soul 
Woo  terror  to  delight  us." 

In  Roderic  is  a  fine  and  characteristic  image : 

"  Toward  the  troop  he  spread  his  arms. 
As  if  the  expanded  soul  diffused  itself, 
And  carried  to  all  spirits  with  the  act 
Its  affluent  inspiration." 


ROBERTSOUTHEY.  71 

The  description  of  moonlight  in  this  poem,  so  justly  admired,  we 
perceive,  by  one  of  the  author's  letters,  was  drawn  from  an  actual 
scene,  which  evidences  the  absolute  need  of  strong  personal 
impressions  even  for  an  imaginative  poet.  The  description  of  the 
ruins  of  Babylon,  in  Thalaba  — 

"  The  many-colored  domes  yet  woi-e  one  dusky  hue  "  — 

is  one  of  the  happiest  examples  of  Southey's  powers  of  language, 
and  musical  adaptation  of  rhythm  to  sense.  To  one  having  a 
natural  feeling  of  wonder  and  fine  elocutionary  powers,  it  is  sus- 
ceptible of  the  most  solemn  recitative  eifect.  The  beautiful 
passage  in  his  "  Curse  of  Kehama."  commencing,  "They  sin 
who  tell  us  love  can  die,"  the  ballads  of  '*  Mary  of  the  Inn"  and 
''The  Battle  of  Blenheim,"  the  "Verses  to  a  Dead  Friend,"  and 
'•  The  Holly  Tree,"  arc  among  the  fugitive  pieces,  written  fioin 
actual  emotion,  which  illustrate  Southey's  affections,  and  have 
endeared  him  as  a  lyrist. 

He  remarks,  in  one  of  his  letters,  that  he  most  nearly  resem- 
bles Chiarbrera,  an  Italian  bard  of  the  fifteenth  century,  who 
enjoyed  high  honors  for  his  verses,  and  died  at  a  prosperous  old 
age.  His  works  are  comparatively  neglected  at  present ;  but 
Maffei,  the  literary  historian,  ascribes  his  success  to  merits  very 
similar  to  those  we  have  recognized  in  Southey.  According  to 
this  critic,  it  was  a  saying  of  Chiarbrera  that  he  wished  to  follow 
the  example  of  Columbus  and  discover  a  new  world,  or  perish, 
and  that  poetry  should  "  lift  the  eyebrow  ;  "  thus  declaring  sur- 
prise to  be  the  great  effect,  and  novelty  the  great  means,  of  poetic 
excellence.  Accordingly,  his  verse  was  prized  chiefly  for  its 
style,  which  innovated  greatly  upon  familiar  models,  and  for  its 
erudition,  which  was  remarkable  for  that  day.  Thus  his  renown 
was  gained  by  ingenuity  and  scholarship,  rather  than  tlirough 
intense  natural  sympathy  or  genuine  inspiration.  We  therefore 
find  Southey's  own  estimate  of  his  poetry,  in  a  great  degree, 
confirms  our  own.  But  this  coincidence  is  as  clearly,  though 
less  directly,  suggested  by  his  casual  observations  on  the  art,  in 
his  letters  to  cotemporary  writers,  and  his  advice  to  young  poets 
who  sought  encouraf'cment  from  his  counsel. 

It    is    obvious,   from    the    incidental    views    thus    honestly 


72  THE    MAN     OF    LETTERS. 

expressed,  that  he  had  not  a  vivid  and  permanent  consciousness 
of  a  poet's  birthright ;  that  the  art  was  too  much  a  branch  of 
authorship,  and  too  little  a  sacred  instinct,  in  his  estimation ;  and 
that  the  more  erratic  versifiers  of  the  age,  less  elaborate,  but  far 
more  intense  and  genuine,  ^Yon  their  larger  popularity  on  legiti- 
mate grounds.  He  tells  one  of  his  correspondents,  who  had 
solicited  his  opinion  of  a  poem,  that  his  friends  reckon  him  "a 
very  capricious  and  uncertain  judge  of  poetry ;  "  and  elsewhere, 
in  speaking  of  the  error  which  identifies  the  power  of  enjoying 
natural  beauty  with  that  of  producing  poetry,  he  says,  '-One  is  a 
gift  of  Heaven,  and  conduces  immeasurably  to  the  happiness  of 
those  who  enjoy  it ;  the  second  has  much  more  of  a  knack  in  it 
than  the  pride  of  poets  is  always  willing  to  admit."  If 
Southey's  poetic  faculty  and  feeling  had  been  equal  to  his 
"knack"  of  versifying,  he  would  have  been  quite  as  reluctant 
to  ascribe  to  ingenuity  what  was  consciously  derived  from  a 
power  above  the  will.  Perhaps  he  was  chagrined  into  this  com- 
monplace view  of  the  art  by  the  fact  that,  while  Scott  was 
receiving  three  thousand  guineas  for  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake," 
the  "  Curse  of  Kehama"  was  going  through  the  press  at  the 
expense  of  Landor. 

The  professional  character  of  Southey's  life  is  almost  incom- 
patible with  the  highest  literary  results.  His  great  merit  as  a 
writer  consists  in  the  utility  of  a  portion  of  his  works,  and  their 
unexceptionable  morality  and  good  sense.  The  most  surprising 
quality  he  exhibited  as  an  author  was  industry.  His  name  is 
thoroughly  respectable  in  literature  as  it  was  in  life ;  but  it 
would  be  unjust  to  the  chivalric  and  earnest  genius  of  the  age, 
elsewhere  manifested  in  deeper  and  more  significant,  though  less 
voluminous  records,  to  award  to  Southey  either  the  title  of  a 
great  poet  or  a  leader  of  opinion.  His  career,  in  regard  to  the 
latter,  is  clearly  explained  in  his  biography.  We  perceive  that, 
even  in  boyhood,  the  intellect  predominated  in  his  nature.  In 
the  heyday  of  his  blood,  the  companionship  of  bolder  spirits  and 
less  chastened  enthusiasts,  the  infectious  atmosphere  of  the 
French  Revolution,  and  the  activity  of  the  poetical  instinct,  not 
yet  formalized  into  service,  made  him,  for  a  while,  the  indepen- 
dent thinker  in  religion  and  politics,  and  induced  visions  of  social 


ROBERTSOUTHEY.  73 

equality  which  he  hoped  to  realize  across  the  sea.  But  early 
domestic  ties  and  a  natural  love  of  study  won  him  gradually  back 
to  conservative  quietude.  More  than  either  of  hig  brother  poets, 
Southey  had  the  temperament  and  taste  of  a  scholar.  He 
neither  felt  as  deeply  nor  dreamed  as  habitually  as  Coleridge. 
The  sensuous  and  the  imaginative  were  not  so  united  in  his  beini; 
with  the  intellectual.  He  needed  less  excitement ;  his  spirit  was 
far  less  adventurous  ;  and  life  did  not  press  upon  and  around  hiui 
with  such  prophetic  and  inciting  power. 

It  is  needless  to  ascribe  the  change  in  his  views  altogether  to 
interest ;  this  may  have  had  its  influence,  but  the  character  of  the 
man  yields  a  far  more  natural  solution  of  the  problem.  He  was 
doubtless  as  sincere  when  he  accepted  the  laureateship  as  when 
he  wrote  "  Wat  Tyler;  "  but,  in  the  latter  case,  his  "blood  and 
judgment  were  not  well  commingled."  Southey,  .the  Bristol 
youth,  penniless,  aspiring,  and  fed  with  the  daily  manna  of  poetic 
communion,  looked  upon  society  with  different  eyes  than  Southey, 
the  recognized  English  author,  resident  of  Cumberland,  and 
father  of  a  family.  He  knew  how  to  use  materials  aptly,  how  to 
weave  into  connected  and  intelligible  narrative  the  crude  and 
fragmentary  data  of  history  and  memoirs.  In  this  manner  he 
greatly  served  all  readers  of  English.  His  "  Life  of  Wesley  " 
is  the  most  authentic  and  lucid  exposition  of  an  extraordinary 
pliase  of  the  religious  sentiment  on  record.  Of  Brazil  and  the 
Peninsular  War  he  has  chronicled  memorable  things  in  a  per- 
spicuous style.  Few  pictures  of  British  life  are  more  true  to 
fact  and  suggestive  than  "  Espriella's  Letters."  The  "  Life  of 
Nelson"  is  a  model  of  unaffected,  direct  narrative,  allowing  the 
facts  to  speak  for  themselves  through  the  clearest  possible 
medium  of  expression ;  and  yet  this  most  popular  of  Southey 's 
books,  far  from  being  the  offspring  of  any  strong  personal  sympa- 
thy or  perception,  was  so  entirely  a  literary  job,  that  he  says  it 
was  thrust  upon  him,  and  that  he  moved  among  the  sea-terms 
like  a  cat  among  crockery.  For  a  considerable  period  after  the 
establishment  of  the  "  Quarterly,"  he  found  reviews  the  most 
profitable  labor.  Many  of  these  are  judicious  and  informing,  but 
they  seldom  quicken  or  elevate  either  by  rhetorical  or  reflective 
7 


74  THEMANOFLETTERS. 

energy,  and  are  too  often  special  pleas  to  excite  great  interest. 
Those  on  purely  literary  subjects,  however,  are  agreeable. 

If  we  were  to  name,  in  a  single  term,  the  quality  for  which 
Southey  is  eminent,  we  should  call  him  a  verbal  architect.  His 
prose  works  do  not  open  to  our  mental  gaze  new  and  wondrous 
vistas  of  thought ;  they  are  not  deeply  impressive  from  the  great- 
ness, or  strangely  winsome  from  the  beauty,  of  their  ideas.  Their 
rhetoric  does  not  warm  and  stir  the  mind,  nor  is  their  scope 
highly  philosophic  or  gracefully  picturesque.  But  their  style  is 
correct,  unaffected,  and  keeps  that  medium  which  good  taste 
approves  in  manners,  speech,  and  costume,  but  which  we  seldom 
see  transferred  to  the  art  of  writing.  For  pure  narrative,  where 
the  object  is  to  give  the  reader  unalloyed  facts,  and  leave  his  own 
reflection  and  fancy  to  shape  and  color  them,  no  English  author 
has  surpassed  Southey.  He  appears  to  have  been  quite  con- 
scious of  the  moderate  standard  to  which  he  aspired.  *'  As  to 
what  is  called  fine  writing,"  he  says,  "  the  public  will  get  none 
of  that  article  out  of  me :  sound  sense,  sound  philosophy,  and 
sound  English,  I  will  give  them."  There  is  no  doubt,  in  so 
domg,  he  consulted  the  Anglo-Saxon  love  of  regulated  and  useful 
principles  and  hatred  of  extravagance,  and  was  thus  an  admira- 
ble type  of  the  modern  English  mind ;  but  such  an  ideal,  however 
praiseworthy  and  respectable,  scarcely  coincides  with  the  more 
noble  and  inspired  mood  in  which  the  permanent  masterpieces  of 
literary  genius  are  conceived  and  executed. 


THE  MODERN  KNIGHT 

SIR  KENELM  DIGBY. 


One  of  the  most  attractive  figures  visible  on  that  imaginary 
line  where  the  eve  of  chivalry  and  the  dawn  of  science  unite  to 
form  a  mysterious  yet  beautiful  twilight,  is  that  of  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby.  To  our  imagination  he  represents  the  knight  of  old 
before  the  characteristics  of  that  romantic  style  of  manhood  were 
diffused  in  the  complex  developments  of  modern  society,  and  the 
philosopher  of  the  epoch  when  fancy  and  superstition  held  sway 
over  the  domain  of  the  exact  sciences.  Bravery,  devotion  to  the 
sex,  and  a  thirst  for  glory,  nobleness  of  disposition  and  grace  of 
manner,  traditional  qualities  of  the  genuine  cavalier,  signalized 
Sir  Kenelm,  not  less  than  an  ardent  love  of  knowledge,  a  habi- 
tude of  speculation,  and  literary  accomplishment ;  but  his  courage 
and  his  gallantry  partook  of  the  poetic  enthusiasm  of  the  days  of 
Bayard,  and  his  opinions  and  researches  were  something  akin  to 
those  of  the  alchemists.  High  birth  and  a  handsome  person  gave 
emphasis  to  these  traits ;  and  we  have  complete  and  authentic 
memorials  whereby  he  is  distinctly  reproduced  to  our  minds. 
These,  however,  do  not  consist  of  those  elaborate  treatises  which, 
doubtless,  cost  him  severe  application ;  his  views  of  the  nature 
of  corporeal  and  spiritual  laws  are  quite  obsolete, —  learned  and 
ingenious,  perhaps,  but  not  of  present  significance.  The  crit- 
icisms that  beguiled  his  imprisonment  evince  his  taste  and  mental 
aptitudes  by  their  subjects  —  Sir  Thomas  Browne  and  Spenser ; 
two  authors  who  include  that  wide  range  of  sympathy  that  lies 


76  THE    MODERN     KNIGHT. 

between  fancy  and  reason.  The  events  of  his  life,  although 
remarkable,  do  not  unfold  the  individuality  of  the  man  to  the 
degree  requisite  for  a  genial  impression.  The  ofiBces  he  held 
imply  no  special  interest  of  character ;  others  have  enjoyed 
royal  favor,  suffered  persecution,  and  gone  through  all  the  phases 
of  the  courtier  and  scholar,  without  leaving  behind  them  any 
fragrant  memories.  It  is  not,  therefore,  as  gentleman  of  the  bed- 
chamber to  Charles  I.,  as  naval  commissioner,  as  an  exile  for  his 
religion,  or  as  the  eccentric  devotee  of  science,  that  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby  claims  our  notice  ;  but  it  is  in  his  character  of  an  adven- 
turous gentleman  and  brave  lover,  as  combining  the  loyalty  and 
the  aspiration  of  the  knight  with  the  graces  of  the  man  of  the 
world  and  society,  and  thus  giving  us  one  of  the  last  warm 
reflections  of  a  departed  era,  which  invests  his  name  with  a  pecu- 
liar charm.  The  relics  which  bring  him  at  once  and  vividly 
before  us  are  his  portrait  by  Vandyke,  and  the  unique  piece  of 
autobiography  he  left ;  the  former  is  in  the  Bodleian  gallery  at 
Oxford,  and  the  latter  is  preserved  in  the  Harleian  collection  of 
the  British  Museum.  These  are  genuine  records ;  they  had  a 
vital  origin,  and  are  caught  from  reality ;  whereas  the  more  osten-  - 
tatious  traces  of  his  life  are  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  an  antiquated 
style  and  foreign  associations.  All  that  is  beautiful  in  Sir  Ken- 
elm's  career  originated  in  his  love,  which,  like  a  thread  of  gold, 
interlaces  and  redeems  his  experience.  Around  the  name  of  his 
wife  are  clustered  the  trophies  of  his  fame.  Sentiment  elicited 
and  glorified  the  elements  of  his  character,  which,  uninfluenced 
by  such  a  principle,  would,  in  all  probability,  have  diffused 
themselves  in  the  blandishments  of  pleasure,  or  the  career  of 
ambition. 

A  mournful  historic  interest  attaches  to  his  name;  for  he  was 
the  eldest  son  of  the  most  gentle  in  lineage  and  the  most  pure 
in  motive  of  the  conspirators  who  suffered  death  for  the  Gun- 
powder treason.  Probably  no  victim  of  a  cause  so  unrighteously 
supported  ever  more  thoroughly  atoned  for  his  error  with  his 
life ;  the  sacrifice  of  his  existence  and  his  estates  appeared  to 
silence  forever  the  voice  of  reproach ;  he  was  soon  regarded  as 
unfortunate  rather  than  criminal  —  a  fanatic,  not  a  traitor  ;  and 
the  memory  of  his  patience,  meekness,  and  fortitude,  survived 


SIRKENELMDIGBY.  77 

that  of  his  conspiracy.  With  such  a  heritage  of  gloomy  dis- 
tinction, his  son  entered  life;  and  there  was  that  in  his  very 
blood  which  prompted,  on  the  one  hand,  to  honor,  and,  on  the 
other,  to  mental  cultivation  and  domestic  peace.  Educated  a 
Protestant,  he  early  commenced  those  travels  abroad  then  deemed 
essential  to  a  gentleman ;  and  the  first  inkling  of  scientific  zeal 
and  public  spirit  appears  in  the  recipe  he  brought  home  (which 
soon  became  famous),  for  making  a  "  synipathetic  powder,"  by 
applying  which  to  anything  that  had  received  the  blood  of  the 
wounded,  instant  relief  was  thought  to  be  afforded,  even  if  the 
patient  was  not  present.  This  idea  was  never  abandoned ;  it  was 
one  of  tlie  results  of  the  occult  studies  then  in  vogue ;  and  the 
"sympathetic  powder"  is  as  intimately  associated  with  Sir 
Kenelm  Digby's  name,  as  tar-water  with  Bishop  Berkeley's. 

An  old  English  writer  mentions  having  seen,  in  the  window  of 
a  brazier's  shop  in  London,  a  mutilated  bust,  which  he  recognized 
as  that  of  Venitia  Stanley.  It  once  surmounted  the  costly  tomb, 
erected  by  Sir  Kenelm  Digby  for  her  remains,  in  Christ  Church, 
near  Newgate ;  and  bore  the  marks  of  the  conflagration  that 
nearly  destroyed  the  monument  in  1675-6.  Such  is  the  poor 
memento  of  one  of  the  most  celebrated  beauties  of  her  time.  A 
descendant  of  the  Percics  of  Northumberland,  she  was  educated 
by  one  of  her  father's  relations  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  the  Digby  manor ;  and  hence  occurred  the  childish  intimacy 
between  her  and  the  boy  Kenelm.  When  taken  to  court  in  her 
girlhood,  Venitia  became,  at  once,  the  object  of  universal  admi- 
ration; and,  as  so  often  happens  to  ladies  thus  distinguished, 
rumor,  never  however  authenticated,  was  soon  busy  with  her 
fame.  She  was  abducted  by  one  impassioned  suitor,  but  made 
her  escape ;  was  rescued  from  a  wild  beast  by  another,  and 
induced,  after  a  long  persecution,  on  the  report  of  Digby's  death, 
to  betroth  herself  to  her  preserver  ;  this  apparent  disloyalty  was, 
perhaps,  encouraged  by  the  strenuous  opposition  of  Sir  Kenelm's 
mother  to  his  proposed  alliance,  occasioned  by  the  malicious 
reports  circulated  to  Venitia's  prejudice.  In  the  mean  time  her 
absent  lover  had  won  no  little  reputation  as  an  accomplished  gen- 
tleman. He  stood  high  in  the  favor  of  the  queen  of  France, 
when  he  first  sojourned  abroad,  and  reaccompanied  a  kinsman, 
7* 


78  THE    MODERN    KNIGHT. 

who  had  been  sent  to  negotiate  the  marriage  of  Prince  Charles 
in  Spain,  to  Madrid ;  and,  on  the  way,  killed  two  bandits  who 
waylaid  them.  As  attache  to  the  prince's  suite,  he  soon  became 
useful  and  a  favorite  at  court,  where  he  attracted  a  lady  of  the 
royal  family ;  and  his  early  love  alone  prevented  an  eligible  mar- 
riage. We  can  readily  imagine  the  feelings  with  which  Digby, 
full  of  anxiety  from  the  report  of  Venitia's  engagement,  disem- 
barked with  his  royal' friend  at  London,  on  his  return  from  Spain. 
On  the  first  day  of  his  arrival  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fair 
object  of  his  devotion ;  and  it  soothed  his  lover's  heart  to 
observe  that  "she  sat  so  pensively. on  one  side  of  her  coach." 
An  explanation  followed.  It  appeared  that  their  letters  had  been 
intercepted,  and  that  the  new  aspirant  for  her  hand  had  already 
been  dismissed  for  his  infidelity.  A  new  prospect  of  happiness 
was  thus  opened  ;  but  Sir  Kenelm  was  invited  to  accompany  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham  to  Paris,  to  arrange  the  nuptials  between 
Prince  Charles  and  Henrietta  Maria.  Two  evidences  of  the 
chivalric  spirit  of  these  lovers  occurred  at  this  epoch.  Bigby 
was  solicited  by  a  friend,  who  was  ignorant  of  his  relations  with 
Venitia  Stanley,  to  intercede  for  him  with  her ;  and  this  he  felt 
bound  in  honor  to  do,  although  he  ''  would  rather  have  died  than 
seen  her  in  any  other  man's  possession."  Nor  was  she  wanting 
in  generosity;  for,  Sir  Kenelm  being  too  much  impoverished 
to  equip  himself  for  the  honorable  expedition  in  view,  Venitia 
pawned  all  her  jewels  to  obtain  the  requisite  funds.  The  argu- 
ments of  his  mother  and  friends  were  no  longer  allowed  to  influ- 
ence his  heart ;  he  fought  a  duel  with  one  of  her  traducers,  and 
forced  him  to  confess  the  baseness  of  his  slanders ;  he  obtained 
back  her  picture  from  his  discarded  rival ;  and  they  were  privately 
married.  Bigby  had  been  knighted  on  his  return  from  Spain  ; 
and  he  was  blest  with  the  love  and  companionship  of  her  whose 
image  had  never  grown  dim  in  his  breast,  from  the  time  he 
sported  with  her  in  childhood,  until  that  which  made  her  his 
bride.  His  was  not  a  spirit,  however,  to  rest  contented  without 
crowning  love  with  glory,  and  proving  its  inspiration  by  great 
deeds;  he  wished  to  show  that  it  "had  not  lessened  the  noble- 
ness of  his  mind,  nor  abated  the  edge  of  his  active  and  vigorous 


SIRKENELMDIGBY.  79 

spirits;"  he  desired,  therefore,  'Ho  undertake  something  which 
should  tend  to  his  own  honor  and  the  king's  service." 

A  great  favorite  at  Whitehall,  and  naturally  gay,  he  yet  cheer-- 
fully  embarked  in  a  maritime  expedition,  and  gained  a  naval  vic- 
tory at  Scandcroon  over  the  Algerincs  and  Venetians.  It  was 
during  his  sojourn  at  an  island,  awaiting  his  fleet  dispersed  by  a 
storm,  that  he  became  the  object  of  interest  to  the  ladies  of  his 
host's  acquaintance,  and  to  avoid  even  the  appearance  of  forget- 
fulness  of  A^enitia,  he  retired  under  pretence  of  writing  de- 
spatches, and  then  composed  the  piece  of  autobiography  to  which 
we  have  alluded.  In  the  quaint  elegance  of  its  style,  and  the 
lofty  ardor  of  its  sentiments,  this  curiosity  of  literature  is  a  gem 
of  its  kind.  Under  fictitious  names  ho  describes  himself,  his  mis- 
tress and  friends,  the  course  of  his  love,  its  origin,  consummation, 
and  philosophy.  A  few  extracts  will  give  an  idea  of  the  whole : 
******* 

"  At  such  times  then  as  my  soul,  being  delivered  of  other  out- 
ward distractions,  hath  summoned  all  her  faculties  to  attend  to 
this  main  business,  the  first  consideration  that  hath  occurred  to 
me  hath  been  that  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  the  mind  ought  to 
be  aimed  at ;  the  obtaining  of  which  is  an  infallible  token  that 
one  is  in  the  right  way  of  attaining  to  perfect  happiness;  or 
rather  these  two  have  so  straight  and  near  a  relation,  as  that  one 
cannot  be  without  the  other." 

•l(?  T^  -tF  TV  TT  -IT  ^ 

*' And,  besides,  because  that  in  exact  friendship  the  wills  of 
the  two  friends  ought  to  be  so  drowned  in  one  another,  like  two 
flames  whicluare  joined,  that  they  become  but  one,  which  cannot  be 
unless  the  faculties  of  the  understanding  be  equal,  they  guiding 
the  actions  of  a  regulated  will,  it  cometh  to  pass  for  the  most 
part  that  this  halteth  on  the  woman's  side,  whose  notions  are  not 
usually  so  high  and  elevated  as  men's ;  and  so  it  seldom  happen- 
eth  that  there  is  that  society  between  them  in  the  highest  and 
deepest  speculations  of  the  mind,  which  are  consequently  the  most 
pleasing,  as  is  requisite  in  a  perfect  friendship." 

******* 

"  But  at  length  I  perceived  that  that  infinite  light  which  illu- 
minatcth  all  things,  is  never  wanting  to  illustrate  such  a  mind  as 


80  THE    MODERN    KNIGHT. 

with  due  humility  and  diligence  maketh  itself  fit  to  receive  it ;  for 
it  was  not  long  before  such  an  example  occurred  to  me,  as  satisfied 
me  that  in  this  life  a  man  may  enjoy  so  much  happiness  as  without 
anxiety  or  desire  of  having  anything  besides  what  he  possesseth, 
he  may,  with  a  quiet  and  peaceable  soul,  rest  with  full  measure 
of  content  and  bliss,  that  I  know  not  whether  it  be  short  of  it  in 
anything  but  the  security  of  continuance.  It  was  the  perfect 
friendship  and  noble  love  of  two  generous  persons,  that  seemed  to 
be  born  in  this  age  by  ordinance  of  Heaven  to  teach  the  world 
anew  what  it  hath  long  forgotten,  the  mystery  of  loving  with 
honor  and  constancy  between  a  man  and  a  woman :  therefore 
this  is  the  true  happiness  that  a  wise  man  ought  to  aim  at,  since 
that  himself  is  master  of  it,  and  he  can  give  it  to  himself  w^hen  he 
list.  I  hope,  therefore,  then,  that  you  will  no  longer  call  that  the 
weakest  of  all  the  passions  which  produceth  so  noble  effects." 

To  a  mind  strongly  alive  to  the  beautiful  there  is  a  peculiar 
charm  in  traditional  loveliness ;  and  the  effect  of  this  is  increased 
when  such  attractions  are  made  known  to  us  by  the  influence  they 
exerted  upon  contemporaries,  rather  than  by  details  of  feature. 
The  constancy  which  the  graces  of  Venitia  Stanley  enforced  upon 
Sir  Kenelm,  under  circumstances  of  great  temptation  of  fickle- 
ness ;  the  faith  she  inspired  in  his  soul  notwithstanding  the  sneers 
of  his  comrades,  the  whispered  innuendo,  and  some  indiscretion  on 
her  part,  and  the  entire  satisfaction  he  found  in  her  love,  as  well 
as  his  devotion  to  her  memory,  give  us  a  deeper  impression  of  her 
charms  than  the  mere  fact  that  she  was  universally  admired. 
And  then,  too,  there  is  an  appeal  to  our  best  feelings  in  the  very 
idea  of  beauty  unjustly  associated  with  shame ;  th(;  readiness  of 
the  world  to  derogate  from  charms  that  excite  envy,  the  liability, 
in  one  beloved  and  flattered,  to  forget  circumspection,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  arguments  at  once  suggest  themselves  in  defence  of 
the  assailed.  In  the  case  of  Lady  Digby,  her  chief  accuser  was 
proved  to  be  both  false  and  malicious,  and  the  consistent  happi- 
ness of  their  married  life  soon  justified  the  loving  choice  of  Sir 
Kenelm. 

On  the  first  of  May,  1633,  he  sustained  the  loss  of  this  en- 
deared and  beautiful  woman ;  and  instantly  retired  to  Gresham 
College,  and  there  wore  a  "  long  mourning  cloak,  a  high-cornered 


SIRKENELMDIGBY.  81 

hat.  and  bis  beard  unsborn."  Ben  Jonson  eulogized  ber  under 
the  name  of  Eupbeme ;  ber  husband  raised  the  monument  already 
mentioned,  and  her  face  is  perpetuated  in  numerous  busts  and 
portraits. 

The  remainder  of  Sir  Kenelm's  life  Avas  given  to  travel  and 
studj.  He  endured  persecution  for  his  Catbolic  sentiments  to 
which  he  had  been  converted  in  France,  ■where,  upon  his  return, 
he  was  regarded  as  a  great  acquisition  to  the  court ;  visited  Des- 
cartes, and  wrote  his  treatises.  At  Rome  he  is  said  to  bave 
quarrelled  with  the  pope.  On  the  breaking  out  of  the  civil  war 
with  England,  the  queen  mother  of  France,  always  friendly  to 
him,  successfully  interceded  in  his  behalf;  and  when,  soon  after 
the  dissolution  of  the  Long  Parliament,  be  returned  home,  to  the 
surprise  of  all,  the  Protector  befriended  him ;  an  anomaly  twice 
explained  by  the  supposition  that  he  endeavored  to  bring  about  a 
combination  between  the  enemies  of  the  monarchy  and  the  Cath- 
olics. 

The  public  spirit  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby  was  never  inactive. 
He  fitted  out  the  squadron  he  commanded  at  his  own  expense, 
and  went  on  several  embassies  with  little  or  no  remuneration ;  he 
bequeathed  the  valuable  collection  of  works  inherited  from  bis  old 
tutor  to  the  Bodleian  library ;  and  was  constantly  engaged  either 
in  the  acquisition  or  the  diifusion  of  knowledge.  He  expended 
over  a  thousand  pounds  for  historical  manuscripts  relating  to  his 
family.  While  at  Montpelier  and  other  seats  of  learning,  on  the 
continent,  he  was  intimate  with  the  eminent  men  of  science  and 
letters.  After  the  Restoration  he  was  nominated  to  the  Council. 
His  last  years  were  passed  at  his  bouse  at  Covent  Garden,  in  the 
study  of  philosophy  and  mathematics,  and  in  the  best  social  inter- 
course. He  was  a  great  suiferer  from  the  same  disease  that 
afilicted  Montaigne;  and  died,  by  a  remarkable  coincidence,  on 
his  birthday,  which  was  also  the  anniversary  of  his  naval  triumph, 
in  1665,  at  the  age  of  sixty-two. 

Sir  Kenelm  was  a  thorough  gentleman,  and,  although  the  genial 
dignity  of  that  character  was  somewhat  tinctured  by  a  harmless 
vanity,  his  gifts  of  mind  and  grace  of  person  and  manner  pre- 
vented any  compromise  of  bis  self-respect.  Lord  Clarendon  says 
that  his  conduct,  which  would  have  been  considered  affectation  in 


82  THE    MODERN    KNIGHT. 

the  majority  of  mankind,  "  seemed  natural  to  his  size,  the  mould 
of  his  person,  the  gravity  of  his  motion,  and  the  tone  of  his  voice 
and  delivery."  It  is  curious  to  imagine  him  in  the  various 
phases  his  character  offers  —  the  elegant  courtier,  moving  with 
dignified  pleasantry  amid  the  nobles  of  England,  France,  and 
Spain;  the  credulous  philosopher,  consulting  an  Italian  friar 
about  the  sympathetic  powder,  and  a  Brahmin  as  to  the  destinies 
revealed  by  the  stars ;  the  brave  soldier,  placing  his  ship  along- 
side of  the  enemy's  admiral,  and  cheering  on  his  men  to  victory ; 
the  exile  for  religious  opinion,  the  ambassador  of  his  country,  the 
scholar  closeted  with  the  most  learned  of  his  day;  and  all  these, 
we  must  remember,  are  but  the  episodes  in  the  love-poem  of  his 
life.  Eccentric,  wanting  in  steadiness  of  aim,  both  practical  and 
speculative,  yet  learned,  brave,  and,  though  often  accused,  never 
found  unworthy — faithful  in  love  and  war,  and  noble  in  spirit — 
the  knowledge,  weaknesses,  aspirations,  the  manly  beauty  and 
chivalric  passion  of  his  times,  found  in  Kenelm  Digby  an  illus- 
trious embodiment. 


THE   FINANCIER 

JACQUES  LAFITTE. 


In  the  majority  of  cases  large  fortunes  are  gained  and  pre- 
served through  careful  attention  to  details  —  a  habit  which  is 
supposed  to  militate  with  comprehensive  views  and  liberal  sym- 
pathies. It  is,  therefore,  common  to  regard  the  acquisition  of 
money  and  elevation  of  taste  and  character  as  essentially  incom- 
patible ;  and  this  consideration  gives  peculiar  interest  and  value 
to  the  few  noble  exceptions  to  a  general  rule  which  reveal  the 
sagacious  financier  as  a  patriot  and  philosopher.  Prejudice,  and 
the  narrow  ideas  usually  cherished  by  the  devotees  of  trade,  have 
caused  the  whole  subject  of  money  —  its  acquisition,  preservation, 
and  use  —  to  be  consigned  to  the  domain  of  necessary  evils,  or  the 
study  of  the  political  economist.  It  is,  however,  an  interest  too 
vital,  and  too  inextricably  woven  into  all  the  relations  of  modern 
society,  not  to  have  claims  upon  the  most  reflective  minds,  inde- 
pendent of  all  personal  considerations. 

The  actual  theory  of  an  individual  in  regard  to  money  is  no 
ordinary  test  of  character ;  the  degrees  of  his  estimation  of  it  as 
a  means  or  an  end,  and  as  a  source  of  obligation  and  responsibil- 
ity, are  graduated  by  the  very  elements  of  his  nature,  and  become 
a  significant  indication  of  his  tone  of  mind  and  range  of  feeling. 
In  its  larger  relations  —  those  of  a  national  kind — history  proves 
that  finance  is  a  vast  political  engine,  intimately  connected  with 
the  freedom,  growth,  and  civil  welfare,  as  well  as  external  pros- 
perity, of  a  country.     The  traveller  far  removed  from  his  native 


84  THEFINANCIER. 

land,  at  a  period  of  great  financial  distress,  is  made  to  realize  the 
importance  of  credit,  its  moral  as  well  as  pecuniary  basis,  when 
he  hears  the  character  and  means  of  all  the  prominent  bankers  in 
the  world  freely  canvassed  in  some  obscure  nook  of  the  earth, 
only  connected  perhaps  with  the  civilized  world  by  this  very 
recognition  of  pecuniary  obligation. 

It  is  at  such  crises,  bringing  home  to  his  own  consciousness  the 
vast  and  complicated  relations  of  money  to  civilized  life,  that  the 
individual  becomes  aware  of  the  extensive  social  utility  of  those 
principles  of  financial  science  to  which  perhaps,  in  less  hazardous 
exigencies,  he  has  given  but  listless  attention.  The  same  broad 
views  of  the  subject  are  forced  upon  a  nation's  mind  in  the  junc- 
tures of  political  existence,  and  all  great  revolutions  alternate 
from  the  battle-field  and  the  cabinet  to  the  treasury,  —  the  state 
of  public  and  private  credit  being,  as  it  were,  a  scale  that  truly 
suggests  the  condition  of  the  body  politic,  —  like  the  pulse  of  a 
nation's  life.  Besides  its  attraction  as  a  study  of  character, 
therefore,  the  life  of  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  modern  finan- 
ciers possesses  great  incidental  interest ;  and  its  unadorned  facts 
yield  the  most  impressive  illustration  of  the  relation  of  money  to 
society  and  government. 

The  vicinity  of  the  Pyrenees  and  the  Bay  of  Biscay  renders 
Bayonne  a  favorable  site  both  for  inland  and  foreign  trade ;  and 
her  commerce  with  Spain  on  the  one  side  and  her  lucrative  fish- 
eries on  the  other,  as  well  as  the  large  amount  of  ship-timber 
annually  exported  to  Brest  and  other  parts  of  France,  amply  vin- 
dicate her  claim  to  commercial  privileges,  which  are  still  further 
secured  by  the  enterprise  of  the  Gascon  character.  That  it  is  an 
excellent  mercantile  school  is  evident  from  the  proverbial  success 
of  her  inhabitants  elsewhere. 

It  was  from  this  old  city  that  a  youth  of  twenty,  breaking 
away  from  his  mother's  tearful  embrace,  one  night  in  the  year 
1787,  departed  for  Paris,  with  no  guarantee  of  a  prosperous  expe- 
rience except  that  derived  from  an  ingenuous  disposition,  enthu- 
siasm, ready  intelligence,  and  great  natural  cheerfulness.  He 
became  a  clerk  to  the  banker  M.  Peregaux ;  and  soon  after,  by 
his  own  obvious  merit,  book-keeper,  then  cashier,  and  finally  the 
exclusive  director  and  indispensable  man  of  business  of  the  estab- 


JACQUES     LAFITTE.  85 

lishment.  Such  was  the  origin  of  Jacques  Lafitte's  career.  The 
qualities  which  thus  advanced  him  in  private  life  soon  inspired 
public  confidence,  and  gradually  led  to  his  honorable  and  progres- 
sive activity  in  the  national  councils.  Financial  ability  of  a  high 
order,  combined. .with  noble  traits  of  character,  thus  identified  him 
with  the  best '-interests  of  his  country,  and  enrolled  his  name 
among  her  most  efficient  and  illustrious  citizens.  One  of  ten 
children,  his  first  object  was  to  provide  for  his  family,  which  he 
did  with  characteristic  generosity.  Li  1809  the  son  of  the  poor 
carpenter  of  Bayonne  was  the  president  of  the  Chamber  of  Com- 
merce, regent  of  the  Bank,  and  master  of  a  princely  fortune. 
Thenceforth  we  trace  his  agency,  more  or  less  distinctly,  in  the 
wonderful  series  of  events  that  succeeded  the  first  revolution; 
now  providing  funds  for  a  royal  exile,  now  coming  to  the  rescue 
of  a  bankrupt  nation,  and  again  lying  wounded  on  his  sofa,  advis- 
ing, ordering,  and  invoking  the  chief  actors  in  the  events  of  the 
three  days  in  July,  —  his  court-yard  a  barrack,  and  his  saloon 
an  impromptu  cabinet,  where  a  provisional  government  was  organ- 
ized and  Louis  Philippe  proclaimed. 

It  was  standing  between  Lafitte  and  Lafayette  that  the  new 
king  first  ventured  to  show  himself  to  the  people.  For  many 
years  the  patriot-broker  was  the  centre  of  a  gifted  society,  the 
arbiter  of  pecuniary  affairs,  the  coadjutor  of  monarchs  and  men 
of  genius,  of  the  working  classes  and  political  loaders.  Sur- 
rounded by  luxury,  he  never  became  indolent;  with  absorbing 
duties,  he  atoned  by  study  for  a  neglected  education ;  the  pos- 
sessor of  immense  wealth,  he  never  forgot  the  responsibility  it 
involved ;  a  zealous  partisan,  and  of  so  conciliatory  a  temper  as 
to  have  the  reputation  of  caprice  in  opinion,  he  preserved  unbro- 
ken a  moral  consistency  that  won  universal  respect. 

To  this  special  insight  of  a  financier  Lafitte  added  genuine 
public  spirit ;  he  fully  realized  the  social  claims  incident  to  his 
wealth  and  financial  knowledge ;  and  accordingly  never  hesitated 
to  sacrifice  personal  interest  to  the  general  welfare,  whenever 
circumstances  rendered  it  wise  and  benevolent  so  to  act.  When 
governor  of  the  Bank  of  France,  he  relinquished  his  salary  of  a 
hundred  thousand  francs  in  its  favor,  on  account  of  the  poverty  of 
the  institution ;  in  1814,  when  the  directors  assembled,  after  the 
8 


86  THEFINANCIER. 

entrance  of  the  foe  into  Paris,  to  raise  funds,  he  proposed  a 
national  subscription,  and  munificently  headed  the  list.  When 
the  allies  were  at  the  gates  of  the  city,  he  steadily  refused  to 
endanger  the  credit  of  the  bank  by  a  forced  loan ;  and,  to  avert 
the  horrors  of  civil  war,  placed  two  millions  of  his  own  property 
in  the  hands  of  the  Minister  of  Finance.  After  the  eyents  of  the 
three  days,  he  resigned  his  coffers  to  the  provisional  government : 
his  hotel  was  the  rendezvous  of  the  chief  actors,  his  party 
installed  Lafayette  at  the  head  of  the  troops,  and  it  was  he  that 
sent  word  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans  to  choose  between  a  crown  and 
a  passport,  and  subsequently  caused  him  to  be  proclaimed. 

Thus  Lafitte  thrice  gave  a  safe  direction  to  the  chaotic  elements 
of  revolution,  and  came  bravely  and  successfully  to  the  rescue  of 
his  country  in  great  emergencies.  Nor  was  his  action  in  behalf 
of  individuals  less  noble  and  prompt.  When  Louis  XVIII.  was 
exiled,  he  sent  the  royal  fugitives  four  millions  of  francs ;  when 
the  Duke  of  Orleans  offered  large  though  doubtful  securities  to 
various  commercial  houses  in  vain,  Lafitte  accepted  them  at  par 
value,  uncertain  as  they  were.  When  Napoleon  departed  for  St. 
Helena,  Lafitte  became  the  repository  of  the  remainder  of  his 
fortune ;  when  General  Foy  experienced  a  reverse  of  fortune,  and 
imprudently  sought  relief  in  stock  speculations,  the  generous 
banker  confidentially  arranged  with  his  broker  to  enrich  the 
brave  and  proud  oflBcer,  and,  when  he  died,  subscribed  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  for  the  benefit  of  his  family.  These  are  but 
casual  instances  of  his  private  liberality.  It  was  a  habit  as  well 
as  principle  with  him  to  afford  pecuniary  relief  whenever  and 
wherever  real  misfortune  existed ;  to  cherish,  by  the  same  means, 
industry,  letters,  art,  and  benevolent  institutions,  with  a  judg- 
ment and  delicacy  that  infinitely  endeared  his  gifts.  It  is  not 
surprising  that  both  people  and  rulers  were,  at  times,  impelled  by 
grateful  sympathy  to  recognize  the  noble  spirit  of  such  a  finan- 
cier ;  —  that  the  Emperor  Alexander  placed  a  guard  at  his  door 
when  his  liberty  was  threatened  by  the  invaders ;  —  that  Napo- 
leon expressed  his  confidence  by  saying,  as  he  left  the  remnant 
of  his  fortune  in  his  hands,  "I  know  you  did  not  like  my  govern- 
ment, but  I  know  you  are  an  honest  man;"  and  that  France 
herself,  when  his  own  fortune  was  wrecked  by  his  devotion  to  the 


JACQUES      LAFITTE.  87 

bank  and  the  country,  was  moved  at  the  remembrance  of  his 
sacrifices,  would  not  permit  the  first  asylum  of  the  revolution  to 
be  sold,  and,  by  a  national  subscription,  redeemed  it  for  Lafitte. 

It  is,  however,  to  be  regretted  that  he  ever  interested  himself 
actively  in  politics,  except  as  they  were  directly  related  to  his 
peculiar  sphere.  When  called  upon  to  bring  financial  means  to 
the  aid  of  government  or  people,  in  their  exigencies  of  civil  life, 
we  have  seen  his  exemplary  wisdom,  integrity,  and  generous 
spirit ;  when  he  addressed  the  Chambers  upon  any  question  of 
debt,  credit,  loans,  or  currency,  his  superior  intelligence  and  prac- 
tical genius  at  once  won  respectful  attention  ;  his  lucid  and  able 
reports,  while  governor  of  the  bank,  indicate  his  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  the  principles  of  public  credit ;  the  remarkable  speeches 
in  which  he  revealed  a  project  for  resuscitating  the  nation's 
treasury, —  the  originality  of  his  ideas,  his  colloquial  eloquence, 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  made  a  dry  subject,  and  even  figures 
themselves,  interesting  and  comprehensive, — amply  prove  his 
remarkable  adaptation  to  the  domain  of  social  economy  and  polit- 
ical action  he  illustrated.  Appointed  by  the  king  in  1816  as 
one  of  the  Committee  of  Finance,  with  the  Duke  of  Richelieu  at 
its  head,  he  contested  the  system  of  forced  loans  as  identical  with 
bankruptcy.  In  1836  he  demanded  the  reimbursement  of  the 
five  per  cents.  His  theory  was  founded  essentially  on  the  con- 
viction that  the  way  to  diminish  the  burdens  of  the  people  is  to 
diminish  the  expenses  of  the  state. 

Had  Lafitte  thus  strictly  confined  himself  to  the  subject  of 
which  he  was  master,  it  is  probable  he  would  have  escaped,  in  a 
great  degree,  the  blind  prejudice  of  his  opponents.  As  it  was, 
however,  his  career  as  a  deputy,  to  the  view  of  an  impartial  spec- 
tator, reflects  honor  upon  his  character.  Here,  as  in  private 
life,  he  was  eminently  distinguished  by  moral  courage.  On  one 
occasion  he  boldly  proposed  the  impeachment  of  ministers. 
During  the  hundred  days  he  was  one  of  the  intrepid  minority  that 
sought  to  preserve  France  from  a  second  invasion.  In  opposing 
the  system  of  forced  loans,  his  noble  hardihood  induced  the  king 
to  invest  him  with  the  legion  of  honor.  "  I  have,"  he  said  to  the 
Duke  of  Richelieu,  his  most  formidable  antagonist  on  this  occa- 
sion, "  bound  myself  to  speak  my  mind;  if  the  plan  I  propose  is 


88  THEFINANCIER. 

salutary,  it  Js  for  the  king  to  decide  whether  he  will  sacrifice  the 
Chambers  to  France,  or  the  country  to  the  Chambers." 

On  the  celebrated  twenty-eighth  of  July,  accompanied  by  his 
friends,  he  travei*sed  the  scene  of  hostilities  to  the  Carousel, — the 
quarters  of  Marshal  Marmont, — and  adjured  him  to  put  a  stop  to 
the  carnage.  *'  Military  honor,"  said  the  commander  of  Paris, 
"consists  in  obedience."  "  Civil  honor,"  replied  the  brave  deputy, 
"  consists  in  not  slaughtering  the  citizens  to  destroy  the  consti- 
tution." At  the  funeral  of  Manuel  he  arrested  with  his  elo- 
quence the  outbreak  between  the  military  and  the  people.  He 
was  in  the  front  rank  of  the  defenders  of  the  charter,  the  stanch 
advocate  of  the  freedom  of  the  press ;  and,  when  he  saw  the  revo- 
lution of  July  approaching,  effectually  and  at  great  personal  risk 
strove  to  make  it  as  useful  and  bloodless  as  the  nature  of  things 
would  permit.  "My  conscience,"  he  said,  "is  without  reproach. 
I  founded,  it  is  true,  a  new  dynasty,  but  I  found  something  in 
it  legitimate.  Posterity  will  judge  me.  I  hope  the  loyalty  of 
my  intentions  will  find  me  grace  in  the  eyes  of  history.  I  never 
deceived  any  one.  My  principles  never  changed.  I  believed  in 
1830  that  France  could  only  be  republican  through  monarchy. 
I  was  wrong,  and  I  repent  with  all  my  heart."  For  half  a  cen- 
tury he  defended  the  rights  of  the  people,  and  never  ceased  to 
preach  moderation,  but  "  a  moderation  compatible  with  liberty 
and  national  honor." 

In  the  war  of  opinion  and  the  strife  of  party  Lafitte  suffered 
the  inevitable  caprices  of  popular  favor.  Even  his  opponents,  how- 
ever, considered  what  they  deemed  his  faults  to  arise  from  the 
strength  of  his  affections,  rather  than  the  perversion  of  his  will. 
His  official  life  ruined  his  private  fortunes  ;  and  the  bitterness  of 
his  disappointment  at  the  apparent  inefficacy  of  the  revolution  in 
which  he  had  taken  so  prominent  a  part,  may  be  inferred  from 
the  memorable  fact  that  he  ascended  the  tribune,  and,  with  much 
solemnity,  asked  pardon  of  Heaven  for  having  contributed  to  its 
success.  He  seems  at  last  to  have  become  thoroughly  aware  of 
the  limits  of  his  natural  vocation,  and  expressed  himself  as  con- 
tent when,  free  once  more  from  the  trammels  of  state,  he  began  to 
retrieve  his  fortunes  as  a  banker. 

The  views  of  Lafitte,  however,  on  all  subjects  which  he  inves- 


JACQUESLAFITTE.  89 

tigated,  were  remarkable  for  sound  reason  and  moderation.  He 
■was  no  fanatic  in  politics,  and  understood  the  character  of  his 
nation.  Louis  XVI.,  he  thought,  aimed  at  a  moral  impossibility 
in  attempting  to  retain  all  his  prerogatives,  without  which  the 
eclat  of  his  office  would  be  lost,  while  he  knew  the  complaints  of 
his  people  to  be  just.  To  the  vacillation  incident  to  this  double 
view  of  the  case,  and  the  consequent  indecision  of  a  naturally 
good  heart,  he  ascribed  his  course,  which  abased  royalty  while 
making  sincere  concessions.  He  believed,  too,  that  the  monarch 
owed  his  downfall  more  to  injudicious  friends  than  real  enemies. 
The  Girondists,  he  considered,  tried  the  fatal  experiment  of 
attempting  to  reconcile  people  and  court,  and  were  too  timid  for 
the  first  and  too  advanced  for  the  last ;  he  regarded  the  irresolu- 
tion of  Lafayette  as  the  flaw  in  his  excellent  nature ;  Danton, 
Robespierre,  and  ^larat,  he  viewed  as  victims  of  the  jiivre  revo- 
lutionnaire^  and,  therefore,  not  to  be  judged  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  men  in  a  healthful  condition.  Indeed,  he  declared  that 
no  one  could  safely  predict  his  own  conduct  under  the  influence 
of  great  political  excitement.  "I  have,"  be  said,  -'made  the  sad 
experiment ;  it  is  best  not  to  enter  the  vortex  ;  if  you  do  you  are 
borne  on  blindfolded."  He  always  insisted  that  the  great  results 
of  the  French  Revolution  could  have  been  attained  by  less  terri- 
ble means.  He  recognized  fully  the  reforms  of  Napoleon,  and, 
with  the  acumen  of  a  political  economist,  watched  the  growing 
prosperity  of  the  nation  ;  but  none  the  less  lamented  the  deca- 
dence of  freedom  with  the  grief  of  a  patriot.  He  recoiled  from  the 
duplicity  of  the  emperor,  and  grieved  at  the  subserviency  of  the 
senate.  What  most  surprised  Lafitte,  in  Bonaparte,  was  his  for- 
tune ;  and  he  deemed  his  fatal  error  the  attempt  to  impose  on 
France  a  continental  system  wholly  incompatible  with  the  age. 
In  a  word,  he  honored  Napoleon  as  a  soldier,  and  despised  him  as 
a  ruler.  The  office  of  the  press  he  seems  to  have  thoroughly 
appreciated;  ^'- jdi  toiijours  pcnse,''^  he  says,  ^^ qiiela prcsse  est 
dans  1(11  Hat^  Vvnlqiie  moyen  c/e  i^etenir  le  ponvoir  dans  les 
homes  de  la  moderation  et  de  Vempecher  de  se  llvrer  a  Varbi- 
tralre^'' 

Although,  when  elected  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  Lafitte 
immediately  took  his  place  on  the  benches  of  the  opposition,  and 
8* 


90  THEFINANCIER. 

subsequently  attained  the  presidency  of  the  cabinet,  and  in  1817 
was  the  only  name  deposited  in  the  urns  of  twenty  sections  of  the 
electoral  college;  by  supporting  the  reduction  of  the  rents  and  the 
creation  of  the  three  per  cents,  he  alienated  many  of  his  party. 
Indeed,  such  was  his  political  eclecticism,  that  a  democratic  writer 
says  ''he  lost  his  popularity  by  his  monarchical  affections,"  — 
alluding  to  his  personal  attachments  to  members  of  the  royal  family; 
and  a  monarchist  attributes  it  to  his  democratic  attachments ;  thus 
justifying  the  inference  of  his  biographer,  that  he  was  "too  much 
a  man  of  heart  to  be  a  statesman."  In  the  sphere  of  his  individ- 
ual ambition,  however, —  in  his  financial  opinions  and  career,  as 
well  as  in  the  tone  of  his  character,  —  Lafitte  was  remarkably 
consistent ;  sagacious,  upright,  benevolent,  and  patriotic.  He 
completely  refuted  the  base  charge,  suggested  by  partisan  animos- 
ity, of  having  sold  his  vote  to  the  minister;  and  whatever 
popular  favor  he  may  have  lost  as  the  member  of  a  faction,  he 
amply  regained  as  a  man.  This  is  evident  from  the  universal 
sympathy  awakened  by  his  loss  of  fortune,  and  the  confidence 
and  gratitude  with  which  the  people  rallied  to  his  call  when  he 
established  his  famous  Caisse  cTescompte,  now  the  memorial  of 
his  useful  and  honorable  career.  By  means  of  this  institution 
the  poorest  artisan  has  a  safe  and  profitable  investment  for  his 
earnings. 

In  1837,  having  thus  settled  his  affairs  and  reestablished  his 
credit,  he  thus  addressed  the  shareholders  :  "  It  is  not  without 
emotion  that  I  find  myself  restored  to  these  labors,  and  about  to 
crown,  with  an  undertaking  worthy  of  my  best  efforts,  a  career  in 
which  I  have  perhaps  done  some  good.  I  forget  many  past  mis- 
haps, and  all  the  bitterness  of  political  life,  which  promised  noth- 
ing to  my  ambition,  and  the  burden  of  which  I  only  accepted 
from  devotion  to  my  country.  The  future  had  compensation  in 
reserve  for  me  ;  and  the  second  of  October,  1837  —  the  day  on 
which  I  resume  my  business  —  consoles  me  for  the  nineteenth  of 
January,  1831  —  the  day  on  which  I  left  it."  Thus  opening 
a  credit  to  the  humbler  branches  of  industry,  Lafitte  rescued 
many  a  victim  from  the  extortions  of  the  usurer. 

The  financial  services  of  Lafitte  in  France  vividly  recall  those 
of  Robert  Morris  in  America.     At  the  commencement  of  the 


JACQUES     LAFITTE.  9i 

American  Revolution  he  was  more  extensively  engaged  in  com- 
merce than  any  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  was  one  of  the  first 
Philadelphians  irretrievably  to  commit  himself  in  behalf  of  the 
colonies  at  a  great  pecuniary  sacrifice ;  thus  inspiring  the  same 
unbounded  confidence  in  his  patriotism  which  his  integrity  and 
wisdom  had  long  before  gained  for  him  as  a  man  of  business. 
He  was  on  every  committee  of  ways  and  means  appointed  by  the 
legislature  of  his  native  state,  and,  from  the  outbreak  of  hostil- 
ities, devoted  all  the  force  of  his  talents,  the  influence  of  his 
name,  his  credit  and  fortune,  to  his  country ;  and  these  seldom 
failed  in  the  hour  of  need.  When  his  official  resources  were 
inadequate  he  pledged  his  individual  credit.  Like  Lafitte,  he 
was  exposed  to  misrepresentation,  and,  like  him,  triumphed  over 
calumny.  All  the  requisite  means  for  Washington's  expedition 
against  Cornwallis  were  furnished  by  him ;  and  his  own  notes,  to 
the  amount  of  four  hundred  thousand  dollars,  thus  fearlessly  given, 
were  all  finally  paid.  While  invested,  as  belong  was,  with  the 
entire  provision,  control,  and  expenditure,  of  the  public  finances, 
the  history  of  his  difficulties  and  expedients  would  fill  a  volume. 
When  the  imminent  danger  that  originally  induced  him  to  accept 
this  responsible  office  liad  passed  away,  he  gladly  resigned. 

His  resemblance  to  Lafitte  was  increased  by  a  natural  urban- 
ity, vigor  of  a<jtion,  broad  views,  rigid  justice,  strict  method,  and 
also  by  the  eventual  loss  of  his  own  fortune,  and  the  establishment 
of  an  excellent  system  of  finance.  He  founded  the  Bank  of 
America,  the  first  institution  of  the  kind  in  that  country,  upon 
principles  the  utility  of  which  time  has  fully  proved.  In  patri- 
otic zeal,  and  in  the  respect  of  his  illustrious  contemporaries,  he 
also  ofiei-s  a  parallel  to  the  renowned  French  banker.  He  was  the 
friend  of  Washington,  and  justly  regarded  as  ''the  soul  of  the 
financial  concerns"  of  the  nation.  "No  one,"  it  has  been  said, 
"parted  more  freely  with  his  money  for  public  or  private  pur- 
poses of  a  meritorious  nature."  When  Hamilton  became  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury,  no  statistics  of  the  country  had  appeared  ; 
her  resources  were  only  surmised ;  and,  after  holding  the  office  for 
five  years,  he  left  it  at  an  unprecedented  height  of  reputation.  By 
these  two  acute  and  zealous  patriots  the  foundation  of  American 
prosperity  was  laid ;  and  the  identity  of  their  opinions  with  those 


92  THE     FINANCIER. 

of  Lafitte  is  remarkable.'  "The  whole  business  of  finance," 
they  thought,  ''was  comprised  in  two  short  but  comprehensive 
sentences.  It  is  to  raise  the  public  revenue  by  such  modes  as 
may  be  most  easy  and  most  equal  to  the  people,  and  to  expend  it 
in  the  most  frugal,  fair,  and  honest  manner." 

The  personal  tastes  of  Jacques  Lafitte  were  characterized  by  the 
same  moderate  tone.  He  loved  elegance,  and  surrounded  himself 
with  all  those  brilliant  resources  that  wealth  so  abundantly  sup- 
plies in  the  French  metropolis ;  but  they  did  not  enervate  or 
bewilder  his  mind ;  he  continued  his  daily  toil  with  unremitted 
zeal ;  casting  aside,  however,  with  the  greatest  facility,  the  severe 
concentration  of  the  financier,  to  mingle,  with  the  abandon  of 
the  joyous  south,  at  his  own  splendid  fetes,  with  the  brave,  the 
wise,  and  the  lovely.  Even  his  literary  predilections  were  char- 
acteristic ;  he  ignored  the  romantic  and  loved  the  classic  writers 
of  his  country,  while  the  bonhonimie  and  patriotism  of  Beranger 
made  him  a  favorite  guest  at  his  reunions,  and  he  knew  Moliere 
by  heart.  His  first  discourse  as  deputy  made  a  great  impression, 
both  on  account  of  its  style  and  ideas.  It  is  curious  that  the 
sensation,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  of  wealth,  is  so  independent  of  its 
possession.  Lafitte  declared  that  he  never  felt  himself  rich 
except  when  his  appointments,  under  Peregaux,  reached  the  sum 
of  three  thousand  francs ;  an  indirect  but  striking  proof  of  his 
consciousness  of  the  relations  to  society  incident  to  fortune.  His 
credulous  faith  in  the  integrity  of  others  presents  a  striking  con- 
trast to  his  sagacious  insight  as  regards  affairs.  When  the  Duke 
of  Orleans  said  to  him,  "What  shall  I  do  for  you  when  I  am 
king  ?"  his  reply  was,  "  Make  me  your  fool,  that  I  may  tell  you 
the  truth ;  "  yet  he  entertained  such  implicit  confidence  in  the 
promises  of  the  royal  candidate,  that  he  received  his  embrace 
upon  his  accession  with  fraternal  trust.  Calm,  serene,  indus- 
trious as  a  financier,  generous  and  honest  as  a  man,  gay  and 
kindly  as  a  companion,  after  forty  years  of  riches  and  honor, 
Lafitte  found  himself  poor  and  unpopular ;  and  perhaps  no  por- 
tion of  his  career  is  more  suggestive  of  energy  of  character  and 
elasticity  of  temper  than  the  last  epoch,  wherein  he  retrieved  both 
his  fortune  and  his  glory. 

The  power  of  money,  thus  illustrated,  as  a  means  of  political 


JACQUES     LAFITTE.  92 

and  social  influence,  is  not  less  obvious  in  ordinary  experience 
Recall  the  scene  of  morbid  excitement,  and  its  infinite  probable 
consequences,  which  a  single  midnight  hour  offers  at  Frascati's ; 
"  the  hard-ejed  lender  and  the  pale  lendee  "  visible  on  the  Ex- 
change ;  the  serene  unity  of  life  achieved  by  the  philosopher 
satisfied  with  the  freedom  from  care  incident  to  a  mere  compe- 
tency when  attended  by  intellectual  resources ;  the  "  weary 
hours  "  of  the  millionaire  ;  the  exalted  aspect  pf  human  nature 
in  the  person  of  the  man  of  fortune  whose  means  are  rendered 
absolutely  subservient  to  taste  and  philanthropy  ;  the  comfort  of 
households  upheld  by  honest  industry ;  the  sublime  results  of 
genius  when  exempted  from  want  and  the  bafiled  spirit  of  the 
persecuted  debtor ;  the  absorption  of  time,  intellect,  and  feeling, 
in  sordid  pursuits  ;  —  let  the  imagination  follow  to  their  ultimate 
issues  the  various  incidental  fruits  of  these  several  conditions  upon 
the  individual  and  society,  and  we  have  a  glimpse  of  the  vast 
agencies  involved  in  the  use  and  abuse  of  money. 

From  the  Bureaux  du  Monte  de  Piete  to  the  halls  of  a 
national  bank,  from  the  luxurious  saloon  to  the  squalid  hovel, 
from  the  dashing  spendthrift  to  the  wretched  miser,  through  all 
the  diagnoses  of  usury  and  beneficence,  we  can  trace  the  fluctua- 
tions of  human  passions  and  the  assertion  of  human  character  in 
their  most  vital  development.  Accordingly,  it  is  impossible  to 
over-estimate  the  value  of  wisdom,  integrity,  and  kindness,  in 
pecuniary  affairs.  A  high  example  in  this  regard  is  of  boundless 
practical  worth  ;  and  there  is  no  social  interest  so  universal  and 
significant  as  that  which  relates  to  the  acquisition,  distribution, 
and  maintenance  of  wealth.  The  morals  and  science  of  finance, 
rightly  understood,  embrace  the  principles  of  all  ethics. 

The  "unfortunate  compliances"  which  marred  the  unity  of 
his  political  life ;  the  indifference  that  settles  on  the  public 
mind  in  regard  to  a  fallen  minister ;  the  bitterness  of  partisan 
hostility,  and  the  capricious  alienation  of  popular  favor,  were 
all  forgotten  in  tearful  and  affectionate  memories,  when,  on  the 
night  of  the  26th  of  May,  1843,  it  was  announced  in  Paris  that 
Lafitte  was  no  more.  He  died  as  he  had  lived,  amid  noble  and 
generous  thoughts,  affectionate  ministrations,  calm  resolutions, 
and  holy  sentiments.     The  immense  procession  that  followed  to 


94  THE     FINANCIER. 

Pere  la  Chaise,  and  the  sad  group  of  brilliant  statesmen,  authors, 
and  military  officers,  of  poor  and  grateful  recipients  of  his  bounty, 
of  loyal  citizens  and  intimate  friends,  that  saw  his  remains  de- 
posited in  the  tomb  prepared  for  them,  between  those  of  Foy  and 
Manuel,  evidenced  the  ultimate  appreciation  of  his  character, 
which  became  more  eloquently  manifest  in  the  tributes  which 
Arago  and  the  leading  public  men  of  the  day  spontaneously 
offered  to  his  memory. 


THE  ACTOR. 

EDMUND  KEAN 


The  great  moral  trait  in  Kean  was  a  certain  spirit,  tenacity  of 
purpose,  and  lofty  confidence  in  himself,  which  differed  widely 
from  presumption  or  conceit  —  a  kind  of  instinctive  faith,  that  no 
force  of  circumstances  or  prescription  ever  quenched.  This  qual- 
ity, more  easily  felt  than  described,  seems  the  prerogative  of  genius 
in  all  departments  of  life,  and  is  often  the  only  explicable  inspira- 
tion that  sustains  it  amid  discomfiture  and  privation.  It  runs, 
like  a  thread  of  gold,  through  the  dark  and  tangled  web  of  Kean's 
career ;  lends  something  of  dignity  to  the  most  abject  moment  of 
his  life,  and  redeems  from  absolute  degradation  his  moments  of 
most  entire  self-abandonment.  Thus,  when  an  obscure  and  pro- 
vincial actor,  performing  Alexander  the  Great,  he  replied  indig- 
nantly to  the  sarcasm  of  an  auditor  in  the  stage-box,  who  called 
him  Alexander  the  Little,  "Yes,  sir,  with  a  great  soul  !  "  —  and 
exultingly  told  his  wife,  after  his  first  great  success  in  London, 
in  reply  to  her  anxious  inquiry  what  Lord  Essex  thought  of  him. 
"  D — n  Lord  Essex ;  the  pit  rose  to  me  ! "  He  felt  that  the  appeal 
of  genius  was  universal,  and  that  which  stirred  in  his  blood  de- 
manded the  response  of  humanity.  This  consciousness  of  natural 
gifts  made  him  spurn  the  least  encroachment  upon  his  self-respect, 
however  poverty  weighed  him  down,  and  long  before  fame  justi- 
fied to  the  world  his  claims.  He  rushed  forever  away  from  the 
house  of  his  earliest  protector,  because  of  a  careless  remark  of 
one  of  the  company  that  disavowed  his  equality  with  the  children 


96  THEACTOR. 

of  the  family.  Whenever  an  inferior  part  was  allotted  him,  he 
fled  to  avoid  the  compromise  of  his  feelings;  and,  after  his  triumph 
■was  achieved,  poured  a  bowl  of  punch  over  the  stage-manager's 
head  at  Drury  Lane,  to  punish  his  impertinent  criticisms  at  the 
first  rehearsal.  The  same  proud  independence  led  him  to  avoid 
the  social  honors  of  rank.  He  liked  professional  and  literary 
men  because  he  thought  they  truly  relished  and  understood  his 
art.  The  restraints,  the  cold  uniformity,  and  the  absence  of  vivid 
interest,  in  the  circles  of  the  nobility,  either  oppressed  or  irritated 
him ;  and  he  chafed  until  free  to  give  vent  to  his  humor,  passion, 
and  convivial  tastes,  among  boon  companions. 

A  fine  audacity,  and  that  abhorrence  of  the  conventional  we 
find  in  hunters,  poets,  and  artists,  —  the  instinctive  self-assertion 
of  a  nature  assured  that  its  own  resources  are  its  best  and  only 
reliable  means  of  success  and  enjoyment, — thus  underlaid  Kean's 
"wayward  and  extravagant  moods  ;  and,  while  it  essentially  inter- 
fered with  his  popularity  as  a  man,  it  was  a  primary  cause  of  his 
triumph  as  an  actor ;  for  no  histrionic  genius  more  clearly  owed 
his  success  to  the  will.  In  this  regard  he  was  a  species  of  Alfieri. 
The  style  he  adopted,  the  method  he  pursued,  and  the  aim  he 
cherished,  were  neither  understood  nor  encouraged,  until  their 
own  intrinsic  and  overwhelming  superiority  won  both  the  critics 
and  the  multitude.  The  taste  in  England  had  been  formed  by 
Kemble  and  his  school ;  dignity,  correctness,  grave  emphasis,  and 
highly-finished  elocution,  had  become  the  standard  characteristics. 
Kean  was  a  bold  innovator  upon  this  system ;  he  trusted  to  nature 
more  than  to  art,  or  rather  endeavored  to  fuse  the  two.  Thus, 
while  carefully  giving  the  very  shades  of  meaning  to  the  words 
of  Shakspeare,  he  endeavored  to  personify  the  character,  not 
according  to  an  eloquent  ideal,  but  with  human  reality,  as  if  the 
very  life-blood  of  Othello  and  Lear,  their  temperaments  as  well 
as  their  experience,  had  been  vitally  transferred  to  his  frame  and 
brain.  He  seemed  possessed  with  the  character  he  represented ; 
and,  throwing  mere  technical  rules  to  the  winds,  identified  him- 
self through  passional  sympathy,  regulated  by  studious  contem- 
plation, with  the  idiosyncrasies  of  those  whose  very  natures  and 
being  he  aspired  to  embody  and  develop. 

Kean  obeyed  the  instinct  of  genius,  when,  in  opposition  to  the 


EDMUNDKEAN.  97 

management  at  Drurj  Lane,  arranging  his  debut,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Shylock  or  nothing  !  "  In  that  part  there  was  scope  for  his 
intellectual  energy,  opportunity  to  give  those  magical  shades  of 
intensity,  and  throw  into  those  dark,  acute  features  the  infinite 
power  of  expression  for  which  he  was  distinguished.  A  few  weeks 
before  that  memorable  evening,  his  first-born  son  had  died  in  a 
provincial  town,  and  in  all  the  agony  of  his  bereavement  he  had 
been  obliged  to  act,  to  gain  money  to  defray  the  funeral  expenses. 
Thence  he  had  gone  up  to  town,  and,  owing  to  a  misunderstand- 
ing of  the  contract,  for  months  endured  the  pressure  of  actual 
want,  and  the  heart-sickness  of  hope  deferred.  The  season  was 
unpropitious ;  his  spirits  and  energy  were  depressed  by  fasting, 
affliction,  and  neglect.  While  he  was  at  rehearsal,  his  wife  sold 
one  of  her  few  remaining  articles  of  apparel  to  obtain  him  a  din- 
ner, fortified  by  which  he  trudged  through  the  snow  to  the  theatre. 
The  series  of  triumphs  succeeding  this  memorable  night  are  well 
known.  The  overpowering  reality  of  his  personation  gave  Lord 
Byron  a  convulsive  fit,  caused  an  actress  to  faint  on  the  stage, 
and  an  old  comedian  to  weep,  replenished  the  treasury  of  Drury 
Lane,  electrified  the  United  Kingdom,  ushered  in  a  new  theatrical 
era,  and  crowned  him  with  sudden  prosperity  and  fame.  His 
star,  however,  set  in  clouds.  His  last  appearance  in  London  was 
as  melancholy  as  his  first  was  brilliant.  Alienated  from  his  fam- 
ily, the  victim  of  excess,  —  proud,  sensitive,  and  turbulent,  —  his 
domestic  troubles  were  only  reconciled  just  before  his  death, 
which  came  as  a  relief  to  himself  and  those  with  whom  he  was 
connected. 

While  the  histrionic  achievements  of  Kean  identify  his  name 
with  the  progress  of  dramiitic  art,  liis  actual  life  and  habits  per- 
tain rather  to  a  sphere  without  the  limits  of  civilization.  A  wild 
vein  belonged  to  his  very  nature,  and  seemed  indicative  of  gypsy 
or  savage  blood.  It  gleamed  sometimes  frons^  his  extraordinary 
eyes,  when  acting,  so  as  to  appal,  startle,  and  impress,  every  class 
of  observers.  A  man  once  cried  out  in  the  pit  at  the  demoniacal 
glare  of  his  optics,  as  Shylock  meditating  revenge  on  his  creditor, 
**  It  is  the  devil!"  His  poet-biographer  compares  him  to  the 
van-winged  hero  of  Paradise  Lost ;  and  West,  the  painter,  de- 
clared he  had  never  been  so  haunted  by  the  look  of  a  human  face 
9 


98  THEACTOR. 

as  by  that  of  Kean.  Something  of  this  peculiar  trait  also  exhib- 
ited itself  in  his  action  and  tones,  and  made  his  audience  thrill 
with  the  fierce  energy  of  his  soul.  But  while  it  thus  subserved 
the  purposes  of  art,  and  was,  in  fact,  an  element  of  his  genius,  it 
infected  his  private  life  with  a  reckless  and  half-maniacal  extrav- 
agance, that  was  fostered  by  his  addiction  to  stimulants,  an  unpro- 
tected infancy,  and  the  precarious  and  baffled  tenor  of  his  youth 
and  early  manhood. 

When  we  bring  home  to  ourselves  this  erratic  behavior,  com- 
bined with  extreme  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  the  career  of  Kean, 
as  a  man.  seems  almost  as  remarkable  as  it  was  as  an  actor.  A 
stage-Cupid  at  two  years  of  age,  a  circus-rider  and  harlequin, 
then  an  infant  prodigy  reciting  RoUa ;  his  very  origin  disputed  ; 
now  the  slave  of  a  capricious,  ignorant,  and  selfish  woman ;  and 
now  the  wayward  protege  of  a  benevolent  lady ;  arranging 
Mother  Goose  for  one  manager,  and  taking  the  part  of  a  super- 
numerary for  another ;  reduced  to  such  poverty  as  to  travel  on 
foot,  his  wife  trudging  wearily  at  his  side,  and  his  boy  clinging 
to  his  back ;  at  one  time  swimming  a  river  with  his  theatrical 
wardrobe  in  a  bundle  held  by  the  teeth,  and,  at  another,  for 
whole  days  half  famished,  and  his  wife  praying  at  her  lonely 
vigils  for  a  speedy  release  by  death  from  hopeless  sufiering  ;  to- 
day dancing  attendance,  for  the  hundredth  time,  at  Drury  Lane, 
to  gain  the  ear  of  the  director,  and  known  among  the  bystanders 
only  as  "the  little  man  with  the  capes;*'  and  to-morrow  the 
idol  of  the  town,  his  dressing-room  besieged  by  lords,  —  few 
chronicles  in  real  life  display  more  vivid  and  sudden  contrasts 
than  the  life  of  Kean.  The  mercurial  temper  that  belonged  to 
him  was  liable,  at  any  moment,  to  be  excited  by  drink,  sympathy, 
an  idea,  or  an  incident.  One  night  it  induced  him  to  disturb 
the  quiet  household  where  he  lodged  by  jumping  through  a  glass 
door ;  another,  to  seize  the  heads  of  the  leaders  attached  to  his 
majesty's  mail-coach,  and  attempt  a  wrestling-match.  '  In  Dub- 
lin, it  winged  his  flight  for  hours  through  the  dusky  streets,  with 
a  mob  of  screaming  constables  at  his  heels.  It  inspired  him  to 
engage  in  midnight  races  on  horseback.  In  more  quiet  mani- 
festations, it  induced  him  to  make  a  pet  of  a  lion,  and  a  sacred 
relic  of  the  finger-bone  of  Cook ;    and  prompted  him,  to  his 


E  D  M  U  N  D      K  E  A  N  .  99 

wife's  extreme  annoyance,  to  retire  to  bed  in  the  costume  of  a 
monkey.  At  one  time  it  led  him  to  muse  for  hours  in  a  church- 
yard ;  and,  at  another,  to  try  a  country-life  on  his  estate  at  Bute, 
or  haunt  the  "  Red  Lion  "  and  the  "  Coal-Hole."  In  England  it 
made  him  a  volunteer  jockey  at  a  race ;  in  Italy,  a  fascinating 
story-teller  and  mimic  to  the  monks  of  road-side  convents ;  and 
in  America,  caused  him  to  be  duly  inaugurated  chief  of  a  tribe 
of  Indians. 

There  is  no  actor  of  whom  such  instances  of  arrogance  toward 
the  public  and  individuals  are  related ;  but  it  is  to  be  observed 
that  they  generally  originated  in  exasperated  feeling,  caused  by 
undeserved  neglect  or  gross  misappreciation ;  and  charity  will 
ever  make  allowance  for  the  inevitable  results  of  an  incongruous 
and  homeless  childhood.  Kean's  father  nearly  ruined  his  son's 
physique  by  employing  him,  at  a  tender  age,  to  figure  in  panto- 
mime ;  timely  surgical  aid  having  only  saved  his  limbs  from  utter 
deformity.  The  redeeming  influences  of  his  early  years  were  the 
benevolent  intervention  of  Dr.  Drury,  who,  recognizing  his  promise, 
sent  him  to  Eton ;  and  the  patient  teachings  of  Miss  Tidswell, 
an  actress  of  Drury  Lane.  That  he  was  born  with  a  genius  for 
the  stage  is  evinced  by  the  fact  that  at  the  age  of  thirteen  his 
Cato  and  Hamlet  satisfied  provincial  audiences ;  and  his  recita- 
tion of  Satan's  Address  to  the  Sun,  from  Paradise  Lost,  won 
royal  approbation  at  Windsor.  His  talent  for  feigning  served 
him  occasionally  more  practical  benefit  than  that  derived  from 
its  entertaining  quality ;  as,  when  he  was  released  from  a  rash 
engagement  on  board  ship  as  cabin-boy,  for  pretended  deafness, 
and  escaped  the  indignation  of  a  London  audience,  he  wantonly 
disappointed,  by  a  well-acted  dislocation  of  the  shoulder. 

If  Kean's  early  circumstances  were  adverse  to  his  moral,  they 
were,  in  many  respects,  highly  favorable  to  his  professional 
development.  The  long  apprenticeship  he  served  to  the  stage, 
embracing  every  grade  of  character,  and  almost  all  functions  of  a 
player,  made  him  thoroughly  at  home  on  the  boards,  and  induced 
much  of  his  ease,  tact,  and  facility ;  his  circus  experiences  and 
habits  of  active  life  gave  both  vigor  and  suppleness  to  his  frame ; 
while  the  vagrant  career  he  led  brought  him  in  view  of  all  kinds 
of  character  and  phases  of  life,  by  which  he  observantly  profited 


100  THEACTOR. 

to  a  degree  that  onlj  those  intimate  with  him  fully  realized. 
While  in  this  country  his  genius  excited  the  intelligent  admira- 
tion, and  his  recklessness  the  benevolent  care,  of  a  professional 
gentleman,  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis,  who  became  his  constant  associate 
and  friend.  From  him  I  learn  the  versatility  of  Kean's  accom- 
plishments was  quite  as  remarkable  as  the  intensity  of  his  acting 
and  the  extravagance  of  his  moods.  He  would  often  enchain  an 
intellectual  circle,  at  a  fashionable  party,  by  his  exquisite  vocalism, 
— the  effect  of  which  was  inexplicable  to  those  who  listened  to  his 
limited  and  unmusical  voice, —  or  by  the  rich  anecdotes  or  shrewd 
comments  of  his  table-talk ;  and,  when  released  from  this  to  him 
intolerable  social  thraldom,  work  off  the  nervous  reaction,  induced 
by  so  many  hours  of  restraint,  by  throwing  half-a-dozen  sum- 
mersets with  the  celerity  and  grace  of  a  practised  harlequin.  He 
was,  indeed,  a  compact  embodiment  of  muscles  and  nerves ;  his 
agility  and  strength  were  such  that  his  frame  instantly  obeyed 
his  will,  from  the  bound  of  a  gladiator  to  the  expressive  restless- 
ness of  quivering  fingers.  His  voice  ranged  through  every  note 
and  cadence  of  power  and  sensibility ;  now  by  a  whisper  of  ten- 
derness bringing  tears  from  callous  men,  and  the  next  moment 
chilling  their  very  hearts  with  the  fierce  tones  of  an  imprecation. 
But  these  remarkable  physical  endowments  would  have  merely 
subserved  the  narrow  purposes  of  the  athlete  or  the  mimic,  had 
they  not  been  united  to  a  mind  of  extraordinary  sagacity  and  a 
face  of  unequalled  expression ;  by  virtue  of  these  he  rendered 
them  the  instruments  of  eflficient  art.  The  professors  at  Edin- 
burgh were  disappointed,  after  seeing  him  perform  and  hearing 
him  converse,  to  find  that  he  had  no  original  theory  of  elocution 
to  broach,  and  no  striking  principles  of  oratory  to  advocate.  His 
touches  were  a  composite  and  individual  result,  no  more  to  be 
formally  imparted  than  the  glow  of  poetry  or  the  zest  of  wit ; 
they  grew  out  of  profound  observation  fused  into  a  practical  issue 
by  the  inspiration  of  genius. 

Coleridge  said  that  to  see  Kean  act  was  like  reading  Shakspeare 
by  lightning.  The  spell  of  his  penetrating  eyes  and  half-Jewish 
physiognomy  was  not  more  individual  than  his  style  of  persona- 
tion ;  and  the  attempt  to  transfer  some  of  his  points  to  another 
has  almost  invariably  produced   an  incongruous   effect.      His 


E  D  M  U  N  D      K  E  A  N  .  101 

excitable  temperament  Wcas  another  secret  of  his  Fiagnotism  aad 
his  foibles.  While  it  enabled  him  wonderfully  to  engage  the  sym- 
pathies of  an  audience,  it  rendered  him  liable  to  be  overcome  by 
the  least  moral  or  physical  excitement,  and  made  him  the  slave 
of  impulse.  Regularly,  in  New  York,  every  afternoon,  he  seized 
the  copy  of  an  evening  journal  inimical  to  him,  with  the  tongs, 
rang  for  a  waiter,  and  sent  it  away  in  this  manner ;  while,  at 
the  same  time,  he  scrupulously  laid  aside  a  guinea  a  week,  during 
the  whole  of  his  sojourn,  to  reward  the  faithful  services  of  a  poor 
servant.  Often  drawn  by  his  kind  guardian  from  a  haunt  of 
debauchery,  just  in  time  to  appear  on  the  stage,  he  would,  at 
others,  attire  himself  like  a  finished  gentleman,  mix  in  the  most 
refined  society,  and  manifest  a  noble  scorn  of  money,  and  an 
absolute  reverence  for  mental  superiority,  that  excited  involuntary 
respect.  Kean,  the  dissolute  man,  the  inebriated  boon  companion, 
quoting  Latin,  the  generous  and  loyal  friend,  the  funny  mimic, 
and  the  great  impersonator  of  Shakspeare,  seemed  like  so  many 
different  beings,  with  something  identical  in  the  eyes,  voice,  and 
stature.  And  as  marvellous  a  disparity  marked  his  fortunes ;  it 
being  scarcely  credible  that  the  same  man,  whose  appearance 
brought  a  solitary  sixpence  to  the  Dumfries  theatre,  is  he  who, 
glittering  with  the  ornaments  of  Garrick,  filled  Drury  Lane  to 
suffocation  for  entire  seasons ;  or  that  the  luxurious  apartments, 
crowded  with  men  of  note,  are  tenanted  by  him  whose  wife  for 
years  kept  vigils  of  penury.  It  is  creditable  to  Kean's  magna- 
nimity, under  these  bewildering  transitions,  that  he  never  played 
the  tyrant;  that  he  was  uniformly  kind  to  poor  and  inferior 
actors,  and  manifested  a  spirit  above  envy.  After  seeing  old 
Garcia  perform  Othello  in  New  York,  he  sent  him  a  costly  gift 
in  token  of  his  admiration ;  he  candidly  acknowledged  the  superi- 
ority of  Talma,  and  labored,  with  genuine  zeal,  to  commemorate 
the  histrionic  fame  of  Cooke. 

It  is  common  to  speak  of  great  acting  or  vocal  ism  as  indescrib- 
able ;  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  this  is  doubtless  true ;  but  dis- 
tinctness of  style  is  characteristic  of  genius  in  all  things,  and  an 
intellectual  observer  can  adequately  report  even  the  evanescent 
charms  of  dramatic  personation  when  harmoniously  conceived  and 
efficiently  embodied.  Accordingly,  we  derive,  from  the  criticisms 
9* 


102''     ■'/:'..  T  H  E     A  C  T  0  R  . 

iiM  reminiacfences  of  Kean's  intelligent  admirers,  a  verj  clear 
idea  of  his  general  merits.  It  is  obvious  that  these  consisted  of 
simplicity  and  earnestness ;  that,  endowed  with  fiery  passions  and 
a  sagacious  intellect,  he  boldly  undertook  to  represent  Shakspeare, 
not  according  to  any  prescriptive  model  or  rules  of  art,  but 
through  his  individual  reflection  and  sympathy.  Like  the  great 
master  of  the  written  drama,  he  followed  closely  the  intimations  of 
nature;  cast,  as  it  were,  self-consciousness  away,  and  assimilated 
the  actual  elements  of  human  life  with  his  own  action  and  expres- 
sion. Hence,  the  truth  of  his  violent  contrasts  —  the  light  and 
shade  of  art.  Hence,  the  frequency  and  effect  of  his  brief,  sug- 
gestive, and  thrilling  exclamations,  that  made  a  single  word  or 
interjection  reveal  infinite  woe,  joy,  surprise,  or  madness.  It  is 
for  the  same  reason  that,  upon  refined  minds  and  earnest  hearts, 
his  acting  unfolded  ever  new  beauty  and  truth,  as  described  by 
Dana,  upon  reading  whose  criticism  Kean  exclaimed,  "  This 
man  understands  me."  By  this  firm,  and,  if  we  may  so  say,  subtle 
yet  instinctive  adherence  to  nature,  a  certain  grandeur  and  effect, 
only  yielded  her  genuine  votaries,  seemed  to  invest  and  glorify 
the  actor,  so  that  his  most  incidental  attitudes  and  by-play  wore 
a  reality  undiscoverable  in  the  most  elaborate  efforts  of  inferior 
performers.  To  the  same  principle  we  ascribe  his  versatility. 
Each  character  was  a  distinct  study.  Where  his  consciousness 
was  at  fault  in  suggesting  the  most  authentic  manner,  tone,  or 
expression,  he  had  recourse  to  observation ;  he  reflected  deeply, 
and  appeared  to  identify  himself,  by  the  process,  with  the  being 
he  was  to  enact,  until  his  very  soul  became  imbued  with  the 
melancholy  of  Hamlet,  the  insanity  of  Lear,  and  the  mental  agony 
of  Othello. 


THE  YOUTHFUL  HEUO. 

THEODORE  KORNER. 


On  the  high  road  near  the  village  of  Wobbelin  there  stands, 
beneath  an  oak,  the  Iron  Monument  of  Theodore  Kcirner.  The 
material  of  which  it  is  constructed,  the  simplicity  of  its  design, 
the  tree  which  overshadows  it,  and  its  isolated  yet  accessible 
position,  would  naturally  induce  an  observant  traveller  to  exam- 
ine and  a  contemplative  one  to  muse  beside  it ;  but  how  infinitely 
is  the  casual  interest,  thus  awakened,  enhanced  when  we  recall  the 
brief  but  thrilling  history  of  him  in  whose  remembrance  it  was 
erected,  and  realize  how  entirely  the  lineaments  of  his  character 
accord  with  the  solemn  beauty  of  his  grave  !  There  is  often  as 
much  room  for  conjecture  in  regard  to  the  absolute  endowments 
of  the  hero  as  of  the  poet ;  the  fame  of  both  is  only  settled  by 
time ;  posterity  not  unfrequently  reverses  the  original  decree ; 
and  the  frank  soldier  and  candid  bard  sometimes  dispel  the 
charming  illusions  they  have  originated,  by  admitting  certain 
facts  of  consciousness.  Thus  courage  and  inspiration  are  as  falla- 
cious, when  judged  by  mere  appearance,  as  more  superficial 
qualities ;  accident,  luck,  animal  excitement,  vanity,  and  despera- 
tion, may  be  the  only  claim  of  the  so-called  hero  to  the  title ;  and 
imitation,  art,  and  tact,  form  the  sole  attributes  of  him  whom  the 
world  of  to-day  denominates  a  poet.  It  is  rare,  indeed,  for  these 
noblest  of  human  distinctions  to  be  thoroughly  vindicated  by  the 
same  individual  during  his  life ;  for  genuine  poetic  gifts  to  be 
illustrated  by  their  sensible  effects  upon  the  popular  mind,  and 


104  THE    YOUTHFUL     HERO. 

genuine  heroism  to  be  indicated  clearly  in  the  expressed  purpose, 
the  thoughtful  resolve,  and  then  realized  by  entire  self-devotion 
and  voluntary  martyrdom.  Such  a  course  seems  to  include  all 
the  elements  of  the  heroic  character,  and  leave  not  the  faint 
shadow  of  a  doubt  of  a  grand  moral  reality. 

There  is  a  courage  of  temperament  which  man  shares  with  the 
inferior  animals ;  that  which  leads  the  stag  to  stand  at  bay,  the 
steed  to  rush  into  battle,  and  the  mastiff  and  game-cock  to  lose 
the  sense  of  safety  in  the  vindictivencss  of  a  contest.  There  is  a 
courage  of  the  imagination  born  of  visions  of  glory,  the  zest  of 
adventure,  and  the  love  of  excitement ;  and  there  is  a  courage  of 
the  will,  the  calm  resolve  of  valor  inspired  by  patriotism  or  duty, 
and  thoughtfully  adopted  after  mature  reflection.  In  proportion 
to  the  danger  incurred,  the  personal  advantage  relinquished,  and 
the  consistency  of  its  aim,  is  this  latter  species  of  courage  to  be 
estimated.  It  is  this  which  essentially  constitutes  the  hero ;  it  is 
an  element  of  character,  not  an  impulse  of  feeling ;  it  is  the 
product  of  the  soul,  not  of  mere  physical  superiority  ;  and  exalts 
humanity  by  intensifymg  her  •active  powers  with  the  concentra- 
tion of  intelligent  moral  purpose. 

Theodore  Korner  thus  more  completely  realized  this  ideal  of 
the  youthful  hero  than  any  character  of  modern  times ;  or  rather 
left  behind  him  the  most  authentic  evidence  and  beautiful  memo- 
rials of  its  reality.  For,  without  reference  to  the  mere  facts  of 
his  life,  we  have  the  two  most  impressive  revelations  of  his 
nature  —  the  written  thought  and  the  noble  achievement ;  the  sen- 
timent calmly  yet  earnestly  expressed,  and  its  practical  embodi- 
ment ;  the  motive  and  the  deed  to  attest  the  hero ;  feeling 
shaping  itself  into  deliberate  action.  We  have  successively  the 
man,  the  poet,  the  soldier,  and  the  martyr ;  and  it  is  this  unity 
of  development  that  renders  Korner's  career  almost  unique.  That 
the  views  he  adopted  were  not  the  offspring  of  a  heated  imag- 
ination ;  that  the  sentiments  he  professed  arose  from  a  deeper 
source  than  the  hot  blood  of  youth  ;  that  he  was  perfectly  con- 
scious of  all  he  risked,  and  quite  aware  of  the  sacrifice  he  offered, 
is  apparent  from  his  literary  productions,  his  conversations, 
letters,  and  consistent  behavior.  His  education  was  singularly 
adapted  to  develop,  at  once,  mental  energy  and  the  gentlest  affec- 


THEODORE     KORNER.  106 

tions ;  it  encouraged  physical  strength  and  aptitude,  and  the 
highest  moral  aspiration  ;  and  hence  he  was  capable  of  estimating 
for  himself  both  the  claims  of  duty  and  the  charms  of  pleasure. 
The  very  atmosphere  of  his  childhood  was  intellectual :  his 
father,  although  ostensibly  devoted  to  jurisprudence,  was  a  man 
of  the  warmest  literary  sympathies  and  the  highest  culture  ; 
while  his  mother  was  the  daughter  of  an  artist.  Schiller  and 
Goethe  were  their  intimate  friends.  The  former  wrote  Don  Car- 
los in  the  elder  Kcirner's  house;  and  not  the  least  pleasing 
chapters  in  the  lives  of  both  authors  are  those  which  record 
anecdotes  of  this  early  intercourse,  and  the  correspondence  to 
which  it  led. 

Young  Kcirner's  first  recollections  are  associated  with  the 
cottage  in  a  vineyard,  endeared  to  the  three  illustrious  friends. 
His  infancy  was  feeble,  and  he  was,  therefore,  encouraged  to 
practise  manly  exercises,  in  which  he  soon  became  an  adept, 
having  few  equals  among  his  companions  in  fencing  and  swim- 
ming. He  was  a  most  graceful  equestrian  and  dancer,  and  excelled 
in  gymnastic  feats.  To  this  admirable  physical  training,  so  essen- 
tial to  the  martial  hero,  Avere  added  the  accomplishments  of 
musician  and  draughtsman.  This  early  instruction  was  derived 
altogether  from  private  tuition.  Habitual  exposure  to  the  open 
air,  and  the  influence  of  nature  as  well  as  the  highest  social  inter- 
course, combined  to  invigorate  and  refine  the  capabilities  of  his 
soul.  But  judicious  and  comprehensive  as  was  his  education,  it 
only  accounts  in  part  for  the  noble  bias  of  his  character.  He 
very  soon  manifested  the  most  decided  tastes  and  aims,  and  the 
instinctive,  far  more  than  the  acquired,  moulded  his  destiny. 
Strength, of  mind  and  firmness  of  purpose,  tenderness  of  heart 
and  loyal  attachments,  soon  gave  promise  of  a  characteristic  life  : 
while  an  appreciation  of  science  and  a  facility  of  versification 
were  equally  obvious  mental  distinctions  —  the  one  giving  vent  to 
his  enthusiasm  and  sentiment,  and  the  other  discipline  and  scope 
to  his  intellect. 

Doubtless  this  need  of  an  active  life  on  the  one  hand,  and 
mental  exercise  on  the  other,  induced  his  first  choice  of  a  profes- 
sion, which  was  that  of  mining;  and  his  mineralogical  and 
chemical  studies  were   followed   under  Werner,    at   Freyburg, 


106  THE    YOUTHFUL    HERO. 

where  Humboldt  first  entered  upon  his  illustrious  career.  At 
home  the  companionship  of  his  sister  and  her  friends  called  out 
his  gentle  sympathies  and  delicate  tastes,  while  that  of  his 
father's  literary  coteries  elicited  his  noblest  intelligence ;  summer 
excursions  made  him  familiar  with  the  most  beautiful  scenery  of 
his  country ;  and  thus  we  have,  as  it  were,  a  complete,  thougli 
informal  system  of  life,  amply  fitted  to  educate  a  poet  and  hero. 
It  is  remarkable  that  singular  vivacity  of  temperament  and  facil- 
ity of  adaptation  alternated,  under  these  influences,  with  a  solemn 
earnestness  of  character.  In  his  boyhood  and  first  youth  Komer 
was  lively,  but  never  frivolous ;  he  engaged  with  similar  alacrity 
in  the  most  sportive  and  most  severe  occupations ;  soon  became  a 
social  favorite,  and  yet  retained  the  nature  of  a  contemplative 
enthusiast.  His  dislike  of  the  French,  the  profound  melancholy 
induced  by  the  loss  of  an  intimate  friend,  who  was  drowned,  and  a 
quick  sense  of  honor,  are  traits  vividly  remembered  by  his  earli- 
est associates. 

His  first  religious  pieces  seem  to  have  been  inspired  during  a 
foot  excursion  amid  the  scenery  of  Silesia.  At  the  Berlin  acad- 
emy, whither  he  was  sent  after  some  years  of  varied  teaching  at 
home,  Korner  was  engaged  in  a  duel ;  and  the  impetuosity  of  his 
nature,  combined  with  the  strongest  poetical  tendencies,  led  his 
father  to  assent  to  his  removing  to  Vienna,  where  he  was  cor- 
dially received  by  William  Humboldt  and  Schlegel.  His  i-ash- 
ness  of  spirit  having  become  subdued  by  a  protracted  fever,  and 
his  domestic  sympathies  revived  by  a  pleasant  sojourn  with  his 
family  at  Carlsbad,  he  exchanged  college  for  metropolitan  life,  in 
a  state  of  mind  peculiarly  fitted  to  render  it  both  useful  and 
happy.  His  cheerful  temper,  fine  personal  appearance,  poetical 
reputation,  and  good  birth,  gave  him  every  advantage  at  the  out- 
set of  his  brief  yet  brilliant  career  at  the  capital ;  but  these  only 
served  him  as  the  initiative  steps  of  fame ;  and,  after  supporting 
himself  for  some  months  by  means  of  his  scientific  attainments, 
he  began  to  write  for  the  stage.  He  was  not  less  fortunate  in  the 
kind  of  discipline  to  which  his  boyhood  was  subjected.  This  was 
voluntary.  He  was  never  thwarted ;  his  reason,  his  honor,  and 
his  tastes,  were  appealed  to,  and  his  will  thus  conciliated.  To  the 
absence  of  fear  in  youth  we  ascribe  the  manly  freedom  of  his 


THEODORE    KORNER.  107 

nature.  The  only  authority  claimed  over  him  was  that  of  love. 
His  parents  were  companions  not  less  than  guides ;  they  respected 
his  idiosyncrasies,  and  only  sought  to  keep  him  in  true  rela- 
tions with  nature,  humanity,  and  God.  Hence  his  faults  were 
always  those  of  excess,  never  of  calculation ;  he  was  sometimes 
rash,  but  knew  not  a  mean  instinct ;  and  the  freshness  and  energy 
of  his  soul  were  preserved  intact.  Education  only  ripened  and 
called  out  original  endowments. 

The  spirit  of  enjoyment  is  more  active  at  Vienna  than  in  any 
city  of  Germany.  If  its  libraries,  museilms,  and  galleries  of  art, 
give  it  intellectual  character,  its  Prater,  thronged  with  recreating 
groups,  including  every  class,  from  the  emperor  to  the  humblest 
citizen,  and  boasting  the  richest  corso  in  Europe,  the  prevalence 
of  music  as  a  pastime,  the  number  of  theatres,  and  the  social  taste 
of  the  people,  render  Vienna  the  centre  of  genial  and  varied  life ; 
while  the  devotees  of  art  or  letters  often  pursue  their  respective 
objects  at  Leipsic  or  Frankfort  with  isolated  enthusiasm  and 
earnest  individuality,  the  tendency  of  the  social  atmosphere  and 
prosperous  activity  at  Vienna  is  to  make  the  artist  or  man  of 
letters  an  efficient  and  sympathetic  intelligence,  inspired  by  and 
giving  impulse  to  the  circles  of  fashion,  taste,  and  conviviality. 
There  lived  Haydn,  Mozart,  and  Beethoven ;  and,  if  their  deeper 
revelations  were  born  in  the  solitude  of  their  own  consciousness 
and  the  intensity  of  thoughtful  emotion,  doubtless  the  zest  of  life 
and  the  human  interest  around  them  yielded  some  of  the  mystic 
threads  which  link  their  harmonies  to  the  universal  heart.  Into 
this  enjoyable  sphere  Korner  brought  not  only  his  own  rare 
endowments  of  mind  and  character,  but  the  prestige  of  good  con- 
versation and  attractive  manners.  To  feel  the  high  and  pleasura- 
ble excitement  of  writing  successfully  for  the  stage  at  this  period, 
and  in  such  a  metropolis  as  Vienna,  we  must  remember  that  the 
theatre  was  the  central  point  of  interest  to  all  classes,  the  theme 
of  enlightened  criticism,  the  object  of  tasteful  appreciation.  Those 
who  illustrated  its  power,  in  any  department,  with  real  genius, 
were  sure,  not  only  of  professional  rewards,  but  of  social  estima- 
tion. The  theatre  was  peculiarly  a  national  institution,  and  a 
fashionable  and  literary  nucleus  endeared  by  habit,  association, 
and  sympathy,  to  the  most  cultivated  and  respected,  as  well  as 


108  THE    YOUTHFUL    HERO. 

the  pleasure-loving  citizens.  The  seeds  of  thought  and  senti- 
ment in  the  mind  of  young  Korner  seemed  to  flower,  all  at  once, 
in  the  encouraging  sphere,  and  amid  the  inviting  intercourse  here 
opened  to  him. 

His  first  efforts  were  light  two-act  pieces  written  in  Alexan- 
drines, of  which  the  "Bride"  and  the  "Green  Domino"  had 
such  success  that  he  began  soon  to  meditate  a  more  elaborate  and 
finished  production.  At  this  era  his  time  passed  in  a  delightful 
alternation  of  study  and  society ;  idolized  in  the  latter,  he  brought 
to  the  former  all  the  ardent  and  noble  feeling  and  facility  of 
expression  which  characterized  his  nature;  and  while  the  one 
elicited  his  sportive  and  companionable  graces,  the  other  gave 
impulse  to  the  mofe  intense  and  thoughtful  moods  of  his  soul. 
An  immediate  and  intelligent  appreciation,  like  that  which  awaits 
the  successful  dramatic  author  in  Germany,  and  the  social  privi- 
leges and  sympathy  awarded  him  in  Vienna,  naturally  excited 
the  enthusiasm  of  Korner,  and,  when  he  was  appointed  poet  to 
the  theatre,  his  fortune  and  position  were  truly  eminent;  but 
ambition  was  only  a  secondary  inspiration,  for  two  sentiments 
glowed  in  his  heart,  and  gave  the  utmost  eloquence  to  his  expres- 
sion. He  was  a  genuine  patriot  and  lover ;  and  at  this  brilliant 
epoch,  the  companionship  of  his  betrothed,  the  ardent  devotion  of 
his  friends,  and  the  new-born  spirit  of  liberty  that  stirred  the 
breasts  of  his  countrymen,  all  united  to  quicken  and  evoke  his 
genius.  Time  has  proved  that  its  most  legitimate  offspring  was 
lyrical  poetry.  The  directness,  harmony,  and  spontaneous  origin, 
of  this  kind  of  verse,  accorded  with  the  frank  earnestness  of  his 
character,  and  more  faithfully  mirrored  his  inward  life  than  the 
elaborate  and  studied  drama.  Yet  one  remarkable  triumph  in 
the  latter  style  he  soon  achieved. 

The  tragedy  of  Zriny,  whatever  may  be  its  imperfections  as  a 
work  of  art,  is  memorable  as  the  composition  of  a  youth,  and  as 
the  deliberate  record  of  his  most  profound  sentiments.  The  period 
of  this  play  is  1566,  and  the  action  is  first  at  Belgrade,  and  then 
in  and  before  the  Hungarian  fortress  of  Sigeth,  which  is  heroic- 
ally defended  by  Nicholas  Von  Irving,  against  Soliman.  Lorenzo 
Juranitsch,  the  former's  lieutenant,  is  the  betrothed  of  his  daugh- 
ter, whose  character,  as  well  as  that  of  her  mother,  are  deline- 


THEODORE    KORNER.  109 

ated  with  a  grace  and  truth  worthy  of  a  poet's  discriminating 
estimate  of  woman.  The  character  of  Lorenzo  Juranitsclr  is 
doubtless  Kdrner's  own  ideal ;  and  the  plot  of  the  drama,  in  a 
striking  manner,  typifies  his  destiny.  Indeed,  the  most  emphatic 
passages  of  the  tragedy  are  identical  with  the  views,  feelings,  and 
purposes,  he  cherished,  as  uttered  in  familiar  conversation  and 
letters.  In  a  literary  point  of  view,  the  distinct  characterization, 
the  fine  contrast  between  the  oriental  scenes  and  those  in  the 
Hungarian  fortress,  the  powerful  and  consistent  tone  of  self-devo- 
tion maintained  by  Zriny  and  his  followers,  the  intense  coexist- 
ence of  love  and  duty,  are  traits  so  happily  manifest  as  to  have 
seized  at  once  on  the  popular  feeling. 

The  play  may  be  justly  considered  as  an  exposition  of  heroism, 
and  what  gives  it  a  permanent  interest  is  the  fact  that  it  em- 
bodies the  habitual  state  of  mind,  foreshadows  the  sacrifice  and 
glows  with  the  very  soul  of  the  author.  It  also  not  inadequately 
represents  the  prevalent  sentiment  of  Germany  at  the  period. 
The  flames  of  Moscow  had  kindled  the  dormant  valor  of  northern 
Europe ;  deep  indignation  against  her  conqueror  now  found  vent 
in  action,  and  the  love  of  country  was  thoroughly  awakened ;  a 
spirit  of  self-consecration  and  a  holy  as  well  as  martial  zeal,  such 
as  the  poet  so  well  describes  as  nerving  the  Hungarian  patriots 
of  the  tragedy,  pervaded  all  hearts;  so  that  ''Zriny"  may  be 
regarded  as  vividly  reflecting,  not  only  the  individual  conscious- 
ness of  the  poet,  but  the  public  sentiment  of  his  country.  An  im- 
pressive proof  of  the  harmony  between  Korner's  expressed  and 
acted  sentiments,  between  his  character  and  writings,  is  the  coin- 
cidence in  tone  and  feeling  of  the  letter  he  addressed  his  father 
after  his  valorous  resolve,  and  some  expressions  that  fall  from  the 
chief  actors  in  "  Zriny  :  " 

"  I  would  depart  but  as  a  hero  should, 
In  the  full  splendor  of  my  boldest  love." 

**  What  is  there  for  us  higher  in  this  world 
That 's  left  untasted  in  our  hallowed  wishes  ? 
Can  life  afford  a  moment  of  more  bliss? 
Here  happiness  is  transient  as  the  day, 
On  high  eternal  as  the  love  of  God." 

10 


110  THE    YOUTHFUL    HERO. 

"  For  as  with  other  slaves  'tis  nature's  law. 
The  vital  air  is  the  demand  of  life, 
So,  maiden,  is  his  honor  to  a  man." 

**  For  nothing  is  too  precious  for  our  country." 

"  Rash  !  nay,  I  am  not  so  — 
Yet  am  I  venturous  and  bold  for  love. 
And  all  enthusiast  for  my  fatherland." 

**  That  I  devote  myself  to  death  were  little  — 
My  life  I  ofl  have  ventured  in  the  hazard  ; 
But  that  I  do  so,  'mid  such  joy  and  pleasure, 
'Mid  happiness  and  highest  earthly  bliss. 
This  is  the  struggle,  this  deserves  the  prize  — 
My  country  may  be  proud  of  such  an  oflFering." 

"  I  will  clasp 
The  form  of  death  with  arms  of  youthful  love. 
And  bravely  press  it  to  my  youthful  breast" 

"  For  fate  may  shatter  the  heroic  breast. 
But  it  can  awe  not  the  heroic  will ; 
The  worm  may  creep,  ignobly,  to  its  rest,  — 
The  noble  mind  must  fight  and  triumph  still.'* 

"  0,  do  not  harshly  chide  with  fote,  my  daughter. 
But  rather  trust  its  kind  paternal  favor. 
Which  hath  permitted  us  by  this  ordeal 
To  prove,  like  gold,  our  purity  of  heart." 

'*  Vienna,  March  10,  1813. 
"Dearest  Father: 

"  I  write  to  you  respecting  an  event  which  I  feel  assured  will 

neither  surprise  nor  shock  you.     I  lately  gave  you  a  hint  of  my 

purpose,  which  has  now  arrived  at  maturity.     Germany  rises ; 

the  Prussian  eagle,  by  the  beating  of  her  mighty  wings,  awakes 

in  all  true  hearts  the  great  hope  of  German  freedom.     My  poetic 

art  sympathizes  for  my  country  ;  let  me  prove  myself  her  worthy 

son  !     Yes,  dearest  father,  I  will  join  the  army,  will  cheerfully 

throw  aside  the  happy,  joyous  life  which  I  have  here  enjoyed,  in 

order  with  my  blood  to  assist  in  the  deliverance  of  my  country. 

Call  it  not  impetuosity,  levity,  rashness.     Two  years  since,  it  is 

true,  I  should  have  termed  it  thus  myself;  but  now  that  I  know 

what  happiness  can  ripen  for  me  in  this  life ;  now  that  the  star 

of  fortune  sheds  on  me  its  most  cheering  influence ;  now  is  it,  by 


THEODORE     KORNER.  HI 

Heaven,  a  sacred  feeling  which  inspires  me,  a  conviction  that  no 
sacrifice  can  be  too  great  to  insure  our  country's  freedom.  Pos- 
sibly your  fond  paternal  heart  may  say,  '  Theodore  is  meant  for 
better  things ;  in  another  field  he  might  have  accomplished 
objects  more  worthy  and  important ;  he  owes  as  yet  a  weighty 
obligation  to  mankind.'  But,  father,  my  conviction  is,  that  for 
the  dcath-ofiering  for  the  freedom  and  honor  of  our  country  no 
one  is  too  good,  though  many  are  too  base.  If  the  Almighty 
have,  indeed,  inspired  me  with  a  more  than  common  mind,  which 
has  been  taught  and  formed  by  thy  care  and  affection,  where  is 
the  moment  when  I  can  better  exert  it  than  now  ?  A  great  age 
requires  great  souls,  and  I  feel  that  I  may  prove  a  rock  amid 
this  concussion  of  the  nations.  I  must  forth  and  oppose  my 
daring  breast  to  the  waves  of  the  storm. 

"  Shall  I  be  content  to  celebrate  in  poetry  the  success  of  my 
brethren  while  they  fight  and  conquer  ?  Shall  I  write  entertain- 
ments for  the  comic  theatre,  when  I  feel  within  me  the  courage 
and  the  strength  to  take  part  in  the  great  and  serious  drama  of 
life  ?  I  am  aware  that  you  will  suffer  much ;  my  mother  too 
will  weep  !  May  God  be  her  comfort ;  I  cannot  spare  you  this 
trial.  I  have  ever  deemed  myself  the  favorite  of  Fortune  ;  she 
will  not  forsake  me  now.  That  I  simply  venture  my  life,  is  but 
of  little  import ;  but  that  I  offer  it,  crowned  as  it  is  with  all  the 
flowery  wreaths  of  love,  of  friendship,  —  that  I  cast  away  the 
sweet  sensation  which  lived  in  the  conviction  that  I  should  never 
cause  you  inquietude  or  sorrow, —  this  is,  indeed,  a  sacrifice  which 
can  only  be  opposed  to  such  a  prize  —  our  country's  freedom. 
Either  on  Saturday  or  Monday  I  depart,  probably  accompanied 
by  friends,  or  possibly  II.  may  despatch  me  as  a  courier.  At 
Breslau,  my  place  of  destination,  I  meet  the  free  sons  of  Prussia, 
who  have  enthusiastically  collected  there,  under  the  banner  of 
their  king.  I  have  scarcely  decided,  as  yet,  whether  I  join  the 
cavalry  or  infantry ;  this  may  depend  upon  the  sum  of  money 
which  may  be  at  my  disposal.  As  to  my  present  appointment 
here,  I  know,  as  yet,  nothing  certain ;  possibly  the  prince  will 
give  me  leave  of  absence ;  if  not,  there  is  no  seniority  in  art,  and 
should  I  return  to  Vienna,  I  have  the  assurance  of  Count  Palfy 
that  still  greater  advantages  of  a  pecuniary  nature  await.     Anto- 


112  THE    YOUTHFUL    HERO. 

nia  has,  on  this  occasion,  proved  the  great,  the  noble  character 
of  her  soul.  She  weeps,  it  is  true,  but  the  termination  of  the 
campaign  will  dry  her  tears.  My  mother  must  forgive  me  the 
tears  I  cause  her  :  whoever  loves  me  will  not  censure  me  ;  and 
you  J  father,  -^vill  find  me  worthy  of  you. 

ci  rpgy  Theodore." 

At  the  very  outset  of  their  march,  after  joining  his  regiment, 
they  bivouacked  in  a  graveyard ;  one  of  the  mounds  was  his  pillow, 
and  over  another  his  horse  stumbled,  and  it  was  regarded  by  the 
superstitious  observei'S  as  ominous.  When  his  sister,  who  was  pos- 
sessed of  much  artistic  skill,  and  whose  grief  for  his  loss  wore  away 
her  life,  was  painting  his  likeness,  she  suddenly  wept,  declaring 
that  she  saw  his  head  bleeding.  He  wrote  to  a  friend  on  the  eve 
of  his  departure,  '^If  I  shall  never  again  be  in  Meadows,  perhaps 
I  shall  spon  be  on  the  green,  and  quite  peaceful,  quite  still !  " 
Indeed,  even  the  most  thoughtless  of  the  students  who,  with  all 
the  ardor  of  youth,  threw  themselves  into  the  impending  strug- 
gle, were  aware  of  the  tinith  of  Korner's  declaration,  ''  Every 
second  man  of  us  must  die."  With  him  this  self-devotion  was 
no  sudden  fit  of  martial  enthusiasm,  but  the  cherished  purpose  of 
years  ;  many  allusions  in  his  letters  and  familiar  talk  afterwards 
became  clear  to  his  friends.  He  had  felt  deeply  the  misfortunes 
of  his  country,  and  pondered  on  the  duty  of  a  citizen,  until  it 
was  his  firm  resolve  to  embrace  the  first  occasion  to  fight,  and,  if 
needful,  to  die  for  his  native  land.  The  summons  came  when 
the  goblet  of  life  sparkled  to  the  brim,  when  his  mind  and  heart, 
his  affections  and  his  intellect,  were  thoroughly  and  genially 
absorbed  ;  yet  he  hesitated  not  a  moment,  but  enrolled  himself  in 
Lutzow's  corps. 

Few  episodes  in  literary  history,  or  rather  in  the  biography 
of  genius,  have  a  more  complete  and  harmonious  moral  beauty 
than  the  whole  life  of  Theodore  Korner.  There  is  no  won- 
derful precocity  suddenly  eclipsed  by  decay ;  no  finale  of 
insanity  turning  the  sweetest  melody  into  horrible  discord ;  no  sad 
compromise  between  the  dreams  of  youth  and  the  calculations  of 
interest ;  all  is  sustained,  noble,  and  consistent ;  —  a  childhood 
enriched  with  high  acquisitions  and  refined  by  domestic  love  ;  — 


THEODORE    KORNER.  113 

a  youth  developed  with  freedom  in  an  atmosphere  of  truth ; 
genuine  relations  with  nature  and  humanity ;  cheerfulness,  intel- 
ligence, fortitude,  and  self-devotion ;  a  unity  of  being  that  pre- 
sents a  remarkable  contrast  to  the  fragmentary,  baffled,  and  too 
often  incongruous  experience  of  the  gifted  and  the  brave.  It  is 
affecting,  and,  at  the  same  time,  sublime  to  recall  the  happy  life 
of  the  young  poet  at  Vienna,  environed  by  the  delights  of  social 
and  literary  fame,  the  cordialities  of  hospitality,  the  consolations 
of,  friendship,  the  sweet  communion  of  love,  and  then  behold  it 
suddenly  yet  calmly  exchanged  for  hardship,  peril,  and  death. 
Amid  the  pleasurable  excitements  of  the  gay  capital,  instead  of 
being  enervated,  he  was  nerved. 

It  was  his  custom  to  retire  to  the  neighboring  village  of  Dob- 
linger  to  write.  "  I  always  work  in  the  garden,"  he  says, 
"  where  I  am  now  writing  this  letter.  A  thicket  of  chestnut 
trees  spreads  its  cooling  shade  around  me,  and  my  guitar,  which 
hangs  behind  me  on  the  next  tree,  employs  me  in  those  moments 
when  I  cease  to  write."  Antonia,  his  betrothed,  appears  to 
have  united  the  most  charming  domestic  feelings  with  that  heroic 
spirit  that  endeared  her  to  her  lover.  He  used  to  visit  her  after 
his  morning's  labor,  quit  her  presence  to  dine  with  Humboldt,  or 
some  other  genial  savati,  pass  the  evening  either  at  a  party  or 
the  theatre,  and  return  home  to  prosecute  his  literary  task,  his 
correspondence,  or  his  studies.  Love  and  art  exclusively  reigned 
in  his  soul.  Yet,  in  accordance  with  that  law  by  which  the  reac- 
tion of  enthusiasm  is  inevitably  melancholy,  Komer  often  turned 
from  the  external  sunshine  of  his  lot  to  realize  a  gloom  within. 
He  had  a  distinct  presentiment  of  early  death,  although  with 
characteristic  heroism  it  seldom  found  other  than  playful  expres- 
sion. When  he  was  digging  the  foundation  of  a  temporary  hut, 
his  comrades  said  to  him,  "You  dig  like  a  grave-digger ;  "  and 
he  replied,  "  "We  ought  to  practise  the  trade,  for  we  shall  doubt- 
less have  to  render,  each  for  the  other,  that  labor  of  love." 

These  noble  volunteers,  comprising  the  flower  of  the  German 
youth,  were  consecrated  to  the  high  office  they  had  espoused,  at 
the  village  church  of  Breslau ;  and  the  muse  of  their  gallant 
comrade  gave  utterance  to  their  religious  zeal  as  well  as  to  their 
patriotic  sentiment.  The  popularity  and  influence  of  his  martial 
10* 


114  THE     YOUTHFUL    HERO. 

songs  had  already  endeared  his  name,  not  only  to  this  chosen 
band,  but  to  all  his  brave  countrymen.  At  leisure  intervals  he 
wrote  other  lyrics  suggested  by  the  exigencies  or  feelings  of  the 
moment,  and  selected  appropriate  melodies  that  soon  winged 
them,  like  seeds  of  valor,  throughout  the  land.  He  made  a  iBnal 
visit  to  his  family  at  Dresden,  before  the  regiment  departed ;  and 
we  next  hear  of  him  thus  anticipating  a  premature  death,  after 
the  battle  of  Darmeburg : 

«'  FAREWELL  TO  LIFE. 

WKITTEX    IX    THE    NIGHT    OF   THE    SETKXTKENTH    ASD  EIGHTEENTH  OF  JCXB,   A3  I  LAT   SEVKBELT 
■WOUNDED   AND  HELPLESS  IN  A  WOOD     EXPECTING  TO  DIE. 

My  deep  wound  bums  —  my  pale  lips  quake  in  death  — 

I  feel  my  fainting  heart  resign  its  strife. 

And  reaching  now  the  limit  of  my  life, 
Lord,  to  thy  will  I  yield  my  parting  breath. 

Yet  many  a  dream  hath  charmed  my  youthful  eye  : 

And  must  life's  fairy  visions  all  depart  ? 

0,  surely,  no  !  for  all  that  fired  my  heart 
To  rapture  here  shall  live  with  me  on  high. 

And  that  fair  form  that  won  my  earliest  vow. 
That  my  young  spirit  prized  all  ebe  above. 
And  now  adored  as  freedom,  now  as  love. 

Stands  in  seraphic  guise  before  me  now  ; 

And,  as  my  fading  senses  fade  away, 

It  beckons  me,  on  high,  to  realms  of  endless  day  !  " 

Few  heroic  lyrics  exhibit  a  more  genuine  spirit  than  the  ''Sword 
Song,"  and  "  Lutzow's  Wild  Chase."  The  former  was  written 
on  the  eve  of  the  engagement  in  which  he  fell.  He  was  sending 
it  to  a  friend,  when  the  signal  of  attack  was  made,  and  it  was 
found  in  his  pocket-book  after  his  death.  The  tirailleurs  of  the 
enemy  fired  from  a  dense  grove  ;  a  ball,  passing  through  the  neck 
of  his  horse,  entered  Komer's  spine,  and  he  instantly  expired. 
So  immediate  was  the  cessation  of  life,  that  the  expression  of  his 
countenance  remained  unchanged  when  the  body  was  carried  off 
the  field.  One  of  his  heart-stricken  friends  cried,  "  Let  us  fol- 
low Korner ! "  and  they  rushed  upon  the  ambushed  enemy  with 
desperate  valor.     Adored  by  his  companions   in   arms   for  his 


THEODORE    KORNER.  115 

delightful  social  qualities,  as  well  as  for  his  transcendent  gifts  and 
peerless  courage,  with  silent  grief  they  dug  his  grave  beneath  a 
majestic  oak  bj  the  road-side,  and  carved  his  name  on  its  trunk. 
With  this  noble  tree  the  memory  of  Korner  is  indissolubly  asso- 
ciated ;  as  indigenous  to,  and  characteristic  of,  his  country,  it 
possessed  for  him  a  singular  charm  ;  and,  in  the  luxuriance  of  its 
summer  foliage,  shaken  off  so  bravely  to  meet  the  winter  gale,  it 
is  an  apt  symbol  of  the  young  hero  cheerfully  throwing  aside  the 
prosperous  crown  that  decked  his  brow,  to  war  for  liberty.  One 
of  his  pieces  derives  a  melancholy  interest  from  the  subject,  that 
deepens  its  intrinsic  pathos : 

**  THE  OAKS. 

'Tis  evening — all  is  hushed  and  still ; 

The  sun  sets  bright  in  ruddy  sheen  ; 
As  here  I  sit,  to  muse  at  will 

Beneath  these  oaks'  unbrageous  screen  ; 
"While  wandering  thoughts  my  fancy  fill 

With  dreams  of  life  when  fresh  and  green, 
And  visions  of  the  olden  time 
Revive  in  all  their  pomp  sublime. 

While  time  hath  called  the  brave  away. 

And  swept  the  lovely  to  the  tomb  ; 
As  yonder  bright  but  fading  ray 

Is  quenched  amid  the  twilight  gloom — 
Yet  ye  are  kept  from  all  decay, 

For  still  unhurt  and  fresh  ye  bloom. 
And  seem  to  tell,  in  whispering  breath. 
That  greatness  still  survives  in  death  ! 

And  ye  survive  !  —  'mid  change  severe. 

Each  aged  stem  but  stronger  grows. 
And  not  a  pilgrim  passes  here, 

But  seeks  beneath  your  shade  repose. 
And  if  your  leaves,  when  dry  and  sere. 

Fall  fast  at  autumn's  wintry  close. 
Yet  every  falling  leaf  shall  bring 
Its  vernal  tribute  to  the  spring. 

Thou  native  oak,  thou  German  tree. 

Fit  emblem,  too,  of  German  worth  ! 
Type  of  a  nation  brave  and  free, 

And  worthy  of  their  native  earth  ! 


116  THE    YOUTHFUL     HERO. 

Ah  !  what  avails  to  think  on  thee, 

Or  on  the  times  when  thou  hadst  birth  ? 
Thou  German  race,  the  noblest  aye  of  all. 
Thine  oaks  still  stand,  while  thou,  alas  !  must  fall !  " 

The  mineralogical  excursions  and  hardy  exercises  of  Korner 
proved  an  admirable  initiation  to  military  service  ;  and  habits  of 
activity  and  method  soon  made  him  thoroughly  eflficient  in  his 
new  vocation.  It  is  remarkable  that  his  was  the  first  blood  shed 
after  joining  the  corps  ;  having  been  sent  with  a  flag  of  truce,  in 
violation  of  the  armistice,  he  received  a  wound  without  drawing 
his  sabre ;  and  it  is  also  worthy  of  notice,  as  illustrating  the  hor- 
rors of  war,  that  he  fell,  as  has  been  subsequently  discovered,  by 
the  shot  of  one  of  his  own  countrymen  in  the  enemy's  ranks. 
How  beautiful,  in  the  retrospect,  is  the  short,  but  illustrious  career 
we  have  thus  imperfectly  traced ;  how  truly  deed  responded  to 
thought,  and  experience  to  sentiment,  in  Korner's  life  !  Generous 
and  devoted  feelings  exalted  him  above  the  bitterness  of  disap- 
pointment ;  his  days  were  occupied  with  acts  of  high  utility,  and 
his  nights  in  lofty  contemplation. 

He  used  to  steal  away  from  the  bivouac  to  the  forest,  to  think 
of  those  he  loved  ;  and,  when  overcome  by  the  pleadings,  tender- 
ness, and  the  desire  for  sympathy,  he  sought  refuge  in  heroic 
aspirations  or  pious  thought.  "If  it  has  been  denied  me,"  he 
writes,  "to  kneel  with  my  bride  at  the  altar,  a  bride  of  steel  has 
been  intrusted  to  me,  to  whom  I  have  sworn  eternal  truth." 
This  calmness  and  resolution  is  the  more  striking  when  we 
picture  Korner  to  our  fancy,  charming  a  select  circle  with  his 
guitar,  or  his  amateur  performance  of  the  Swedish  Captain  in 
"  Wallenstein,"  and  writing  pieces  for  Humboldt's  children  ;  and 
realize  his  adaptation  to  the  peaceful  happiness  of  domestic  and 
artist  life.  The  total  change  in  his  pursuits  and  enjoyments  is 
best  revealed  by  his  letters,  varying  in  date  but  a  few  months. 
Thus  at  one  time  he  writes  from  Vienna :  "  Would  I  could  have 
seen  you  all  in  a  box  yesterday  !  The  finest  feeling  is  that  of 
composition  itself;  next  to  this  ranks  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
one's  work  represented  with  afiection  and  skill ;  the  loftiest  lies 
in  the  conviction  that  one  has  seized  the  souls  of  others."  "I 
amuse  myself  here  divinely ;  am  always  engaged  a  week  before- 


THEODORE     KORNER.  117 

hand ;  and,  I  may  say,  am  quite  the  rage."  And  soon  after,  in 
this  strain :  "A  great  moment  of  my  life  is  approaching.  Be 
convinced  you  shall  find  me  not  unworthy  of  you  when  the  trial 
comes."  And  again  from  the  camp:  "The  corps  already  sing 
several  of  my  songs,  and  I  cannot  describe  to  you  how  agreeable 
is  the  relation  in  which  I  live,  as  the  most  cultivated  and  select 
minds  of  all  Germany  are  near  me  in  rank  and  place." 

The  union  of  strength  of  moral  purpose  and  sensibility  of  feel- 
ing in  Korner's  character  was  obvious  in  his  appearance,  and 
exhibits  itself  vividly  in  his  poems.  His  dark  hair  shaded  a  brow 
open  with  truth  and  prominent  with  intelligence,  but,  in  moments 
of  determination,  knit  by  a  concentrated  will ;  and  his  blue  eye 
could  wear  a  dauntless  as  well  as  a  most  gentle  expression.  Con- 
scious of  the  apparent  incongruity  at  times  in  his  behavior,  he 
thus  naturally  explains  it  in  one  of  his  letters:  "If  you,  per- 
chance, have  occasionally  conceived  me  to  be  deficient  in  warmth 
of  heart,  my  external  manner  has  deceived  you.  Too  warm  to  be 
grave,  and  too  proud  to  appear  weak,  I  find  I  am  often  exposed 
to  be  mistaken,  because  it  is  not  known  why  I  am  thus  appar- 
ently severe  and  capricious ;  both  of  these  moods  being  in  fact 
only  a  relief  to  the  overflow  of  my  feelings." 

Kcirner,  fortunately,  left  us  a  faithful  index  of  his  nature  in 
his  poems.  There  we  recognize  both  his  heroism  and  his  love  in 
their  elementjil  and  spontaneous  action  ;  and  two  of  them  —  one 
written  on  parting  with  his  chosen  bride,  and  the  other  embody- 
ing the  religious  sentiment  that  hallowed  his  patriotism — give 
us,  as  it  were,  a  key  to  the  apparent  antagonism,  but  real  and 
divine  consistency,  of  his  sentiments  : 

•'  Farewell,  farewell ! — with  silent  grief  of  heart 
I  breathe  adieu  to  follow  duty  now  ; 
And  if  a  silent  tear  unbidden  start. 

It  will  not,  love,  disgrace  a  soldier's  brow. 
Where'er  I  roam,  should  joy  my  path  illume, 
Or  death  entwine  the  garland  of  the  tomb. 
Thy  lovely  form  shall  float  my  path  above. 
And  guide  my  soul  to  rapture  and  to  love  ! 

0  hail  and  bless,  sweet  spirit  of  my  life. 

The  ardent  zeal  that  sets  my  soul  on  fire  ; 
That  bids  me  take  a  part  in  yonder  strife, 

And  for  the  sword  a  while  forsake  the  lyre. 


118  THE     YOUTHFUL     HERO. 

For,  see,  thy  mmstrel's  dreams  were  not  all  vain, 
Which  he  so  oft  hath  hallowed  in  his  strain  ; 
0  see  the  patriot-strife  at  length  awake  ! 
There  let  me  fly  and  all  its  toils  partake. 

The  victor's  joyous  wreath  shall  bloom  more  bright 
That 's  plucked  amid  the  joys  of  love  and  song  ; 

And  my  young  spirit  hails  with  pure  delight 
The  hope  fulfilled  which  it  hath  cherished  long. 

Let  me  but  struggle  for  my  country's  good, 

E'en  though  I  shed  for  her  my  warm  life-blood. 

And  now  one  kiss  —  e'en  though  the  last  it  prove  ; 

For  there  can  be  no  death  for  our  true  love  I  " 

"PRAYER  DURING  BATTLE. 

Father,  I  invoke  thee  ! 
I  am  involved  in  clouds  of  vapor  from  the  warring  mouths  of  fire, 
The  lightnings  of  those  thunderbolts  flash  around  me. 

Ruler  of  battles,  I  invoke  thee  ! 

Father,  lead  me  on. 

Father,  lead  me  on  ! 
Conduct  me  to  victory  ;  conduct  me  to  death  ! 
Lord,  I  recognize  thy  will ! 

Lord,  conduct  me  as  thou  wilt ! 

God,  I  acknowledge  thee  ! 

God,  I  acknowledge  thee  ! 
As  in  the  autumnal  whisper  of  the  leaves. 
So  in  the  storm  of  the  battle. 

Thee,  primeval  fountain  of  grace,  I  recognize  ! 

Father,  0,  bless  me  ! 

Father,  0,  bless  me  ! 
Into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  life ! 
Thou  canst  take  it  away,  thou  didst  give  it ! 

In  living  and  in  dying,  bless  me  ! 

Father,  I  worship  thee  ! 

Father,  I  worship  thee  ! 
It  is  not  a  combat  for  the  goods  of  this  world  ; 
The  most  sacred  of  things  we  defend  with  the  sword  ; 

Wherefore,  falling  or  conquering,  I  worship  thee  ! 

God,  to  thee  I  resign  myself ! 

God,  to  thee  I  resign  myself ! 
If  the  thunders  of  death  salute  me. 
If  the  blood  flow  from  my  opened  veins, 

To  thee,  my  Go(H  I  resign  myself ! 

Thee,  Father,  I  invoke  !  '* 


THEODORE     KORNER.  119 

Among  the  many  epithets  that  may  justly  be  given  to  our 
times,  is  that  of  the  age  of  discrimination.  Analysis  is  now  uni- 
versal ;  new  definitions  increase,  and  shades  of  meaning  in  char- 
acter are  observed  and  noted  by  the  philosophic  with  no  less  care 
than  the  elements  of  matter  by  men  of  science ;  all  subjects  are 
tested  either  by  the  clever  method  of  French  nomenclature,  the 
spiritual  refinements  of  German  thought,  or  the  bold  rhetoric  and 
vigorous  sense  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind.  Perhaps  no  human 
trait  has  become  so  modified  to  common  apprehension  by  this 
intellectual  process  as  courage.  It  is  now  needful  that  some- 
thing beyond  bold  adventure,  impetuous  warfare,  or  even  patient 
endurance,  should  exist,  in  order  to  gain  the  renown  of  bravery. 
We  hesitate  at  the  action  to  search  its  motive ;  the  temperament, 
intelligence,  experience,  and  moral  sensibility,  of  the  individual 
are  taken  into  account  before  we  admit  his  claims  to  the  title  of 
hero. 

Whoever  has  carefully  read  Foster's  "  Essay  on  Decision  of 
Character,"  De  Quincey's  "  Treatise  on  the  Cyesars,"  and  Car- 
lyle's  "  Hero- Worship,"  —  all  books  of  the  day  and  more  or  less 
popular, —  cannot  fail  to  discriminate  somewhat  between  the  indi- 
cations of  rashness  and  determination,  ferocity  and  self-control, 
impulse  and  hardihood,  in  judging  of  those  who  occupy  the  fore- 
ground of  history.  Heroism  is  now  regarded  as  a  higher  quality 
than  instinct ;  as  truly  characteristic  of  Dante  as  Nelson,  less 
questionable  in  Sir  Thomas  More  than  in  Murat,  and  quite  as 
obvious  at  Valley  Forge  as  at  Waterloo.  With  all  the  subtle 
distinctions,  however,  that  modern  enlightenment  finds  between 
real  and  apparent  heroism,  there  are  a  few  absolute  principles 
that  stamp  the  indisputable  hero ;  and  among  these  are  a  thorough 
consciousness  of  the  hazard  incurred,  a  voluntary  self-renuncia- 
tion, a  deliberate  purpose  consistently  followed,  and  an  honest 
zeal  based  on  individual  sentiment.  Thus  intellect,  will,  and  heart, 
combine  to  mould  the  hero,  and  inform  his  character  with  an 
ardor,  a  harmony,  and  a  nobleness,  equally  removed  from  fanati- 
cism on  the  one  hand  and  mere  hardihood  on  the  other.  Where 
the  first  development  of  this  spirit  is  social  and  literary,  and  its 
subsequent  phase  action  and  martyrdom,  the   cycle  of   heroic 


120  THE     YOUTHFUL      HERO. 

life  is  adequately  filled,   its   conditions  realized,  and  its  fame 
achieved. 

Such  was  the  case  with  Theodore  Korner.  The  vivacity  of 
his  mind  first  exhibited  itself  in  comic  pieces,  that  amused  the  gay 
Viennese,  and  wafted  the  young  author  prosperously  along  the 
flattering  tide  of  metropolitan  success;  his  critics,  however, 
attached  to  them  little  intrinsic  value ;  hut  some  of  the  minor 
poems  scattered  through  the  four  volumes,  published  by  his  father 
after  his  death  —  most  of  them  written  before  the  age  of  twenty- 
two  —  are  permanently  enshrined  in  the  literature  of  his  country; 
they  prove  the  sincerity  of  his  after  course ;  in  them  are  manifest 
the  fiery  assailant  and  .the  poetical  lover ;  while  the  more  elaborate 
dramas  of  "  Rosamund  "  and  "  Zriny  "  unfold  at  length  the 
same  innate  vigor  of  the  will  and  the  affections  —  the  one  inducing 
fortitude,  and  the  other  tenderness.  The  spirit  of  chivalry  and 
pathos,  thus  emanating  from  the  poet,  were  actualized  by  the 
soldier;  and  this  is  Ktirner's  beautiful  distinction.  His  "  Sword 
Song  "  became  the  Marseilles  Hymn  of  Germany ;  and  he  bravely 
fought  the  battle  of  truth  and  liberty  with  the  lyre  and  the  sword 
—  thenceforth  and  forever  blended  with  his  name. 


THE  MECHANICIAN 

ROBERT  FULTON. 


A  CELEBRATED  geographer  speaks  of  the  State  of  New  York  as 
an  epitome  or  type  of  the  whole  country  —  representing  the  grand 
scale  of  its  waters,  the  productiveness  of  its  soil,  and  the  pictu- 
resque beauty  of  its  scenery.  An  analogous  character  may  be 
recognized  in  the  intellectual  history  of  the  state.  Without  the 
universal  mental  culture  and  the  special  literary  development  of 
New  England,  New  York  has  given  birth  to  men  remarkable  for 
comprehensive  minds  and  social  efficiency,  such  as  Hamilton, 
Livingston,  Jay,  Morris,  and  Clinton;  with  whom  originated 
liberal  schemes  of  polity,  and  a  great  system  of  internal  improve- 
ments. They  proved  wise  and  eloquent  advocates  of  our  national 
welfare ;  and  j  ustice  refers  us  continually  to  their  important  ser- 
vices as  the  basis  of  much  of  our  existent  prosperity,  freedom, 
and  advancement.  There  was  a  scope,  hospitality,  and  self- 
respect  in  their  character,  which  betokened  a  noble  race ;  and  their 
names  ever  awaken  sentiments  of  patriotic  elation.  It  seems  not 
less  appropriate  that  a  region  of  inland  seas,  with  an  ocean  on 
one  side  and  a  vast  extent  of  country  on  the  other, —  the  state 
that  links  the  eastern  and  western  portions  of  the  confederacy, 
and  whose  metropolis  is  the  commercial  port  of  the  nation, — 
should  have  been  the  scene  of  triumph  to  the  mechanician  who 
first  successfully  applied  steam  to  navigation,  and  thus  supplied 
the  grand  desideratum  to  our  physical  resources  and  social  unity. 
The  interests  of  agriculture,  commerce,  and  education,  were  inti- 
11 


122  THE    MECHANICIAN. 

matelj  dependent  on  the  experiment.  Facility  of  intercourse 
between  the  island  of  Manhattan  and  the  banks  of  her  two  rivers 
instantly  enlarged  her  local  power,  while  we  are  only  now  begin- 
ning to  realize  the  political  influence  and  new  avenues  of  wealth 
incident  to  the  same  rapid  and  frequent  communication  with  Eu- 
rope and  the  Pacific.  Both  the  results  and  the  origin  of  Fulton's 
inventive  energy  are,  therefore,  naturally  associated  with  New 
York ;  and  the  corporation  of  the  city  did  but  respond  to  a  uni- 
versal public  sentiment  when  they  gave  his  name  to  the  thorough- 
fare extending  through  three  sections  of  as  many  cities  brought 
together  by  steam  ferriage.  The  first  steamboat  voyage  through 
Long  Island  Sound  and  up  the  Hudson,  as  well  as  the  launch  of 
the  first  steam-frigate,  are  among  the  memorable  reminiscences 
upon  which  our  elder  citizens  yet  expatiate  with  enthusiasm, 
while  the  waters  around  now  literally  swarm  with  the  improved 
and  restless  progeny  of  those  comparatively  recent  achievements : 

**  See  how  yon  flaming  herald  treads 

The  ridged  and  rolling  waves, 
As,  clambering  o'er  the?r  crested  heads, 

She  bows  her  surly  slaves  ! 
With  foam  before,  and  fire  behind. 

She  rends  the  clinging  sea, 
That  flies  before  the  roaring  wind, 

Beneath  her  hissing  lee. 

With  dashing  wheel  and  lifting  keel, 

And  smoking  torch  on  high, 
When  winds  are  loud  and  billows  reel, 

She  thunders  foaming  by  ; 
When  seas  are  silent  and  serene. 

With  even  beams  she  glides. 
The  sunshine  glimmering  through  the  green 

That  skirts  her  gleaming  sides.'* 

The  Patent  Office  at  Washington  affords  an  extraordinary 
demonstration  of  the  predominance  of  mechanical  talent  in  the 
country ;  but  it  is  in  special  and  limited  machines,  in  refinements 
upon  old  inventions,  and  in  cleverness  of  detail,  that  this  aptitude 
is  chiefly  indicated;  there  is  more  evidence  of  ingenuity  thar 
genius.  Yet  this  characteristic  of  the  American  mind,  which 
reached  its  acme  in  Franklin,  is  not  without  its  higher  types  of 
development ;  men  who  unite  to  a  taste  for  mechanics  a  compre 


ROBERT    FULTON.  123 

hensive  view  of  their  utility  and  possible  results ;  who  have  com- 
bined with  a  knowledge  of  material  laws  a  rare  sagacity  in  their 
application;  and  possessed  both  the' faculty  to  invent  and  the 
enthusiasm  and  strength  of  moral  purpose  to  advocate  inventions 
of  a  kind  essentially  adapted  to  modify  society,  and  advance  the 
condition  of  the  whole  world.  Such  mechanicians  are  philoso- 
phers as  well  as  artisans,  and  work  in  the  spirit  of  a  broad  and  phil- 
anthropic intelligence.  They  illustrate  most  effectively  the  true 
dignity  of  labor,  by  relieving  humanity  of  its  greatest  burdens, 
and  enlisting  brain  as  well  as  muscle,  and  nature's  mysterious 
agency  not  less  than  man's  intelligence  and  hardihood. 

Such  a  character  was  Robert  Fulton,  manifesting,  through  life, 
the  ardor  and  pertinacity  of  a  comprehensive  enthusiast,  united 
with  the  patient  assiduity  of  a  practical  mechanic.  Born  in  a 
secluded  township  in  the  interior  of  Pennsylvania,  and  indebted 
for  his  early  instruction  exclusively  to  a  common  school,  it  is  nat- 
ural that  his  sagacious  and  active  mind  should  have  embraced 
the  sources  of  culture  afforded  by  observation  and  thought  with 
singular  avidity.  He  studied  in  the  woods,  by  the  road-side,  and 
in  solitude,  feeding  his  imagination  by  communion  with  nature, 
and  his  intellect  with  such  waifs  of  knowledge  as  came  in  his 
way,  and  readily  assimilated  with  his  tastes-;  for,  like  all  men 
of  decided  traits,  Fulton  seems  to  have  been  a  nonconformist  by 
instinct,  and  to  have  delighted  in  original  ideas  and  individual 
opinion.  The  only  means  his  isolated  boyhood  yielded  for  grati- 
fying the  artistic  tendency  of  his  mind  was  painting,  into  which 
he  was  initiated  by  a  school-fellow,  in  a  very  crude  and  ineffective 
way,  but  sufficiently  to  give  scope  and  incitement  to  his  talent. 
With  the  facility  thus  acquired  he  removed,  while  a  youth,  to 
Philadelphia,  and,  in  the  course  of  four  years,  earned  a  sum  ade- 
quate to  the  purchase  of  a  farm  in  the  interior  of  the  state,  upon 
which  he  established  his  widowed  mother.  On  his  return  to  the 
city,  he  visited  some  celebrated  springs  for  his  health,  which  had 
become  seriously  impaired  by  labor  and  exposure ;  and  there  met 
several  intelligent  gentlemen,  who  became  so  much  interested  in 
the  promise  and  agreeable  manners  of  the  young  artist,  that  they 
counselled  him  to  hasten  to  London,  and  place  himself  under  the 
teaching  of  his  then  renowned  and  prosperous  countryman  — 


124  THE    MECHANICIAN. 

West.  This  advice  he  followed  without  delay,  met  with  a  cordial 
reception  from  the  benign  painter,  and  passed  some  years  in  his 
family.  From  London  he  went  to  Devonshire,  and  practised  his 
art  for  a  considerable  period;  but  while  there  ''a  change  came 
o'er  the  spirit  of  his  dream."  Never  having  greatly  excelled  in 
painting,  and  having  a  natural  love  of  enterprise,  his  late  social 
advantages  had  enlarged  his  views,  and  excited  a  deep  and  intelli- 
gent interest  in  plans  of  broad,  practical  utility.  Before  leaving 
home  he  had  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  Franklin,  who,  indeed, 
first  introduced  him  to  West.  With  his  mind  thus  quickened  by 
the  companionship  of  men  of  superior  gifts  and  extensive  ideas, 
while  passing  through  the  manufacturing  towns  of  England  he 
heard  of  the  success  of  Arkwright's  invention.  His  practical  and 
at  the  same  time  imaginative  mind  took  in,  at  a  glance,  the  possi- 
ble influence  of  manufactures  upon  human  welfare,  the  new  ave- 
nues to  wealth  incident  to  mechanical  skill,  and  the  extraordinary 
natural  advantages  of  his  own  country  as  the  arena  of  great  im- 
provements in  political  as  well  as  social  economy.  An  acquaint- 
ance formed  at  this  period  w^ith  the  Earl  of  Stanhope  and  the 
Duke  of  Bridgewater  —  names  honorably  identified  with  recent 
improvements  in  inland  navigation  —  tended  still  more  to  confirm 
Fulton's  resolution  to  devote  his  energies  to  mechanical  science. 
Accordingly,  he  began  by  experiments  with  the  inclined  plane  as 
a  means  of  canal  transportation,  invented  a  machine  for  sawing 
marble,  one  for  spinning  flax,  one  for  making  rope,  another  for 
scooping  earth,  and  published  a  treatise,  in  1796,  on  Canal  Navi- 
gation. These,  and  other  of  Fulton's  early  labors  in  the  new  field 
he  had  chosen,  were  more  or  less  recognized  and  honored.  He 
obtained  patents  and  medals,  and,  what  was  of  equal  importance 
to  his  future  success,  the  confidence  and  sympathy  of  many  per- 
sons of  influence.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  written  memo- 
rials of  this  part  of  his  life,  when  he  was  engaged  in  the  study 
and  observation  upon  which  his  subsequent  career  was  based,  were 
lost  by  shipwreck  on  their  way  to  this  country.  In  pursuance 
of  the  course  he  had  now  earnestly  adopted,  Fulton  repaired  to 
Paris,  and  there  formed  a  life-long  friendship  with  Joel  Barlow, 
then  our  minister  at  the  court  of  France,  with  whom  he  long 
resided.     Here  he  was  soon  absorbed  in  experiments  to  perfect  a 


ROBERT     FULTON.  125 

scheme  of  submarine  explosion,  and  sought  the  aid  successively 
of  the  French,  English,  and  Dutch  governments,  which  appointed 
commissioners  to  examine  the  invention.  In  each  case  the  report 
■was  adverse  to  its  practical  utility,  yet  Fulton  continued  to  im- 
prove upon  the  original  conception,  invented  a  submarine  boat  to 
act  in  concert  with  the  torpedo,  and  exhibited  the  greatest  inge- 
nuity and  dauntless  ardor  in  prosecuting  this  favorite  scheme  for 
a  series  of  years,  both  at  home  and  abroad.  Already  an  accom- 
plished draftsman,  he  made  himself  an  eflBcient  civil  engineer 
while  in  Europe,  studied  physics,  mathematics,  and  perspective, 
and  returned  to  New  York,  in  1807,  where  he  immediately  began 
a  series  of  attempts  to  perfect  the  application  of  steam  to  naviga- 
tion, and  to  enlist  the  government  in  behalf  of  his  plans  of  naval 
warfare.  In  the  midst  of  his  most  active  usefulness,  after  the 
triumph  of  his  great  invention,  while  contending  for  his  right  to 
a  share  of  the  vast  emolument  it  already  began  to  yield,  and 
while  enjoying  the  recognition  and  the  domestic  happiness  which 
were  the  just  reward  of  a  life  devoted  to  objects  intimately  con- 
nected with  human  welfare,  in  the  prime  of  his  usefulness,  honor, 
and  life,  he  died.  It  is  said  that  this  event  called  forth  more 
public  tokens  of  respect  and  sorrow  than  ever  before  attended  the 
demise  of  a  private  citizen  in  the  same  city  and  state.  If  this 
was  the  case,  it  may  be  attributed,  in  a  measure  at  least,  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  worth  unappreciated,  and  character  misunderstood ; 
for,  although  Fulton  had  several  friends  whose  devotion  knew  no 
bounds,  it  is  undeniable  that  political  and  local  prejudice,  and  a 
narrow  view  of  his  claims  and  purposes,  rendered  not  a  few  of  his 
countrymen  insensible  to  his  genuine  value  until  death  revealed 
to  them  the  singular  combination  of  moral  energy,  noble  feeling, 
and  inventive  genius,  which  distinguished  Robert  Fulton.  To 
realize  this  it  is  necessary  to  transcend  the  brief  outline  we  have 
given,  and  survey  his  qualities  together. 

It  is  a  very  narrow  view  of  Fulton's  claims  to  grateful  respect 
which  estimates  them  solely  according  to  the  degree  of  originality 
he  manifested  in  the  application  of  steam  to  navigation.  The  idea 
is  probably  of  older  date  than  any  of  the  records  or  traditions 
regarding  it ;  for  so  favorable  a  project  was  it  with  men  of  science 
and  experimental  mechanics,  that  we  read  of  attempts  to  realize  it 
11* 


126  THE    MECHANICIAN. 

in  various  countries,  and  on  the  part  of  different  individuals 
obviously  unknown  to  each  other.  The  great  fact  in  the  contro- 
versy remains  indisputable,  that  the  only  inventor  who  perse- 
vered in  giving  a  practical  use  to  the  knowledge  already  gained 
on  the  subject,  and  continued  to  try  expedients  until  crowned 
with  a  success  which  introduced  steam  navigation  to  the  world, 
was  Robert  Fulton.  Never  having  claimed  that  the  idea  was 
original  with  him,  and  always  having  openly  recognized  the 
efforts  of  his  predecessors,  this  acknowledgment  is  no  disparage- 
ment to  Hulls,  whose  treatise  on  the  subject  appeared  in  London, 
1737  ;  to  De  Garay,  whose  experiment  in  the  harbor  of  Barce- 
lona is  alleged  to  have  been  made  in  1543 ;  to  the  Swiss  clergy- 
man, the  French  nobleman,  the  three  Scotchmen,  and  the  two 
other  Americans,  whose  right  to  be  considered  inventors  of  the 
steamboat  have  been  so  strenuously  advocated. 

The  same  mutual  dependence  and  slow  advancement  to  a  great 
end  is  exemplified  in  two  inventions,  Avhich  have,  as  it  were, 
created  manufactures.  Arkwright,  the  inventor  of  the  spinning- 
jenny,  after  experimenting,  as  an  obscure  watchmaker,  in  a  pro- 
vincial town,  upon  theories  of  perpetual  motion,  accidentally  met 
with  Kay,  who  had  long  tried  in  vain  to  perfect  a  spinning- 
machine  ;  and  when  they  cooperated,  the  result  was  achieved. 
Yet  Arkwright,  though  he  left  an  enormous  fortune,  the  fruit  of 
his  inventive  skill,  was  charged  with  unjustly  appropriating  the 
ideas  of  others.  Kay,  doubtless,  originally  conceived  the  notion  of 
such  a  machine,  but  to  the  timely  pecuniary  means  furnished  the 
poor  watchmaker  by  a  gentleman  of  Liverpool,  and  the  practical 
ingenuity  he  brought  to  the  aid  of  his  comrade's  theory,  is  due 
the  successful  issue.  Whitney  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that,  while 
on  a  visit  to  Georgia,  he  shut  himself  up  in  a  room  of  the  hospi- 
table mansion  of  a  friend,  and  toiled  for  months  to  contrive  a 
machine  for  removing  the  seeds  of  the  cotton-plant ;  yet,  when 
his  object  was  accomplished,  his  originality  was  denied,  his  model 
surreptitiously  imitated,  and  his  claims  to  a  patent  disputed.  It 
was  only  after  several  lawsuits,  and  that  tardy  justice  which  time 
and  patience  bring,  that  his  title  to  the  invention  of  the  cotton- 
gin  was  established. 

It  is  a  common  error  to  attribute  mechanical  invention  to  a 


ROBERT    FULTON.  127 

happy  chance ;  but  no  branch  of  human  pursuit  more  directly 
originates  in  the  calculating  energy  of  the  mind.  It  is  the  result 
of  practical  thinking ;  and  the  greatest  inventors  assure  us  that 
the  intervals  of  their  experimental  toil  are  occupied  with  intense 
meditation  upon  the  means  and  ends,  the  relation  of  matter  and 
laws,  or  the  process  of  overcoming  a  special  difficulty.  Whitte- 
more,  the  inventor  of  the  card-machine,  one  of  the  most  ingen- 
ious and  intricate  of  inventions,  after  having  accomplished  every- 
thing desired  except  bending  the  wires,  was  completely  baffled ; 
the  subject  haunted  him  day  and  night,  and  he  declares  that, 
while  pondering  upon  it,  he  fell  asleep,  and  the  method  came  to 
him  in  a  dream,  which  he  instantly  adopted  on  waking,  and  with 
entire  success.  Blanchard.  the  clever  boy,  who,  at  the  age  of 
thirteen,  invented  a  machine  for  paring  apples,  based  on  observa- 
tion of  the  graduating  action  of  the  thumb,  when  the  process  was 
done  by  hand ;  while  riding  in  a  wagon  and  musing  on  the  obsta- 
cles to  manufacturing  gun-stocks  by  machinery,  suddenly  con- 
ceived the  Avhole  principle  of  turning  irregular  forms,  and  cried 
out,  like  Archimedes,  at  the  idea,  which  he  afterwards  realized 
and  patented.  Watt's  early  practice  as  a  mathematical  instru- 
ment-maker, and  his  subsequent  studies  as  an  engineer,  prepared 
him  to  improve  so  essentially  the  steam-engine.  The  naval 
architecture  of  Eckford,  the  Eddystone  lighthouse, — that  mon- 
ument of  Smcaton's  scientific  temerity,  —  the  bridges  of  Edwards 
and  Remington,  the  kitchen  apparatus  of  Count  Rumford,  and 
the  momentous  discoveries  of  Faust,  Jenner,  and  Daguerre,  are 
not  to  be  regarded  as  accidental  triumphs  of  mere  ingenuity,  but 
as  the  results  of  patient  study,  numerous  experiments,  and  intel- 
ligent resolution.  It  is  the  same  with  the  mills  of  Evans,  the 
water  machinery  of  Slater,  the  clocks  and  globes  of  Ferguson, 
the  steam-guns  of  Perkins,  the  safety-lamp  of  Davy,  and  almost 
every  successful  application  of  natural  laws  to  mechanical  apti- 
tudes, whether  by  self-educated  or  professedly  scientific  men. 
We  are  apt  to  look  only  at  the  achievement,  and  disregard  the 
process,  which  is  often  gradual,  complicated,  and  only  attained 
through  earnest  study  and  long  experience.  A  certain  natural 
shrewdness  is  doubtless  characteristic  of  the  mechanical  inventor, 
and  to  the  prevalence  of  this  trait  has  been  reasonably  ascribed 


128  THE    MECHANICIAN. 

the  facility  and  productiveness  of  the  New  Englanders  in  this 
branch  of  labor ;  but  it  is  not  less  owing  to  their  remarkable  per- 
severance and  energy.  "It  is  through  the  collation  of  many 
abortive  voyages  to  the  polar  regions,"  says  De  Quincey,  "that  a 
man  gains  his  first  chance  of  entering  the  polar  basin,  or  of  run- 
ning ahead  on  the  true  line  of  approach  to  it." 

Thus  the  history  of  mechanical  inventions  and  the  annals  of 
the  law  of  patents  evince  a  gradual  approximation  to  success,  in 
almost  every  instance,  and  prove  that  a  division  of  labor  and  a 
union  of  talent  is  the  usual  process  of  discovery,  and  essential  to 
practical  results.  Accordingly,  the  litigation  and  rival  claims  to 
originality,  which  almost  invariably  follow  the  introduction  of  any 
new  machine  into  use,  are  the  inevitable  result,  not  of  plagiarism 
so  much  as  simultaneous  ideas,  and  the  fact  that  the  ostensible 
inventor  is  only  an  eclectic  in  mechanics,  and  skilfully  brings 
together  the  scattered  or  fragmentary  principles  of  a  variety  of 
minds.  But  this  is  generally  accomplished  through  patient  self- 
devotion,  and  by  overcoming  great  and  incessant  difficulties ;  and 
therefore  it  is  quite  just,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  that  the 
man  who  brings  a  great  scientific  idea,  or  mechanical  project,  to  a 
wholly  successful  practical  development,  should  reap  the  largest 
share  of  honor  and  emolument. 

Genius  may  strike  out  novel  and  promising  hints,  but  they  are 
useless  to  mankind  until  embodied  and  applied  by  consistent  and 
pertinacious  thinkers  ;  in  this,  as  in  other  departments  of  social 
welfare,  character  must  often  appropriate  and  apply  the  fruits  of 
talent ;  and  the  union  of  both  in  one  individual  is  as  rare  as  it  is 
auspicious.  Constructiveness  is  a  distinct  tendency  and  gift,  but, 
in  order  to  realize  mechanical  originality  in  its  higliest  phase,  the 
principles  of  science  must  be  brought  into  action.  It  is  on  this 
account  that  the  greatest  inventions  have  sprung  from  the  mutual 
labors  of  the  scientific  and  the  practical.  A  knowledge  of  the 
principle  and  aptitudes  of  the  lever,  wheel,  inclined  plane,  screw, 
wedge,  rope,  and  other  natural  forces,  becomes  infinitely  more 
available  when  combined  with  equal  intelligence  in  hydraulics, 
meteorology,  and  electro-magnetism.  Through  such  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  laws  of  matter,  human  genius  sways  its  energies, 
and  makes  it  subservient  to  purposes  of  utility  and  enjoyment ; 


ROBERT      FULTON.  129     ' 

and  these  triumphs  have  reached  such  an  extent  as  to  signalize 
the  age  in  which  we  live.  The  written  scrolls  that  alone  pre- 
served the  wisdom  and  poetry  of  antiquity,  the  old  quarries  of 
Sicily,  the  fragmentary  arches  on  the  lioman  campagna,  the 
beacon  towers  on  the  hills  of  Spain,  and  even  the  old  crones  that 
twirl  the  distaff  in  the  sun  around  the  Bay  of  Naples,  yet  remind 
us  of  the  epoch  when  the  art  of  printing,  the  railroad,  Croton 
pipes,  the  electric  telegraph,  and  the  loom,  were  unknown.  One 
of  the  "  world's  gray  fathers  "  might  be  lost  in  admiration  at  the 
sight  of  the  equipments  and  architectural  beauty  of  a  modern 
ship ;  but  his  sense  of  wonder  would  deepen  into  veneration  when' 
he  beheld  the  self-impelling  force  in  her  hold,  and  the  needle 
trembling  to  the  pole  in  her  compass,  because  of  the  wise  advan- 
tage thus  practically  taken  of  two  great  natural  laws  ;  bringing 
a  mechanical  contrivance  into  the  realm  of  science,  and  yoking 
the  very  elements  into  the  service  of  man  ! 

The  career  of  the  inventive  mechanician  exposes  him  to  pecu- 
liar trials,  not  only  of  patience,  but  equanimity.  The  artist  and 
author  can  privately  test  their  works,  before  hazarding  a  public 
ordeal ;  but  the  public  nature  and  great  expense  of  the  artisan's  <» 
experiments  render  it  often  indispensable  to  submit  himself  to  a 
kind  of  scientific  jury,  and  sometimes  to  an  ignorant  and  curious 
throng ;  the  least  failure,  is,  therefore,  attended  with  singular 
mortification.  Fulton  experienced  an  unusual  share  of  such 
discouragement ;  he  prematurely  exhibited  his  submarine  appa- 
ratus to  government  commissioners,  including  such 'men  as  Sir 
Joseph  Banks  and  Laplace  ;  while  his  attempted  negotiations 
with  Pitt  and  the  agents  of  Napoleon,  as  well  as  with  his  own 
government,  were  continually  baflled.  From  individuals  and 
societies  he,  however,  obtained  frequent  sympathy  and  aid  ;  and, 
while  disappointed  in  the  issue  of  many  favorite  projects,  his 
incidental  successes  and  the  final  triumph  of  his  great  design 
thoroughly  vindicated  his  clJtims  to  the  world. 

For  many  years  Fulton  had  thought,  written,  and  acquired  all 
possible  information,  with  a  view  to  the  experiments  which  he 
assiduously  tried  on  the  Hudson,  and  one  of  his  first  conceptions 
seems  to  have  been  the  use  of  paddle-wheels.  The  trial  trip  of 
the  Clermont,  so  called  from  Mr.  Livingston's  domain  near  Hyde 


130  THE    MECHANICIAN. 

Park,  is  yet  memorable  on  the  shores  of  the  noble  river  now  cov- 
ered with  elegant  specimens  of  the  same  craft.*  The  British 
reviews  were  facetiously  sarcastic  when  Colden's  Life  of  Fulton 
appeared,  chiefly  on  account  of  the  enthusiastic  view  there  taken 
of  the  effects  of  this  invention  upon  the  destinies  of  the  world. 
Subsequent  events,  however,  wholly  justify  the  prophetic  eulogy. 
The  navigation  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  oceans,  and  of  the 
Mississippi  river,  by  steam,  is  producing  such  changes  in  the 
course  of  empire  and  the  w^elfare  of  society,  that  the  imagination, 
as  well  as  the  reason,  is  baffled  in  contemplating  ulterior  results. 
It  was  a  conviction  of  the  extensive  social  benefits  obtainable  from 
mechanical  science,  that  impelled  and  sustained  Fulton  in  his 
career.  This  is  evident  from  his  written  opinions,  from  the  plans 
he  advocated,  and  the  arguments  he  invariably  used,  to  advance 
his  objects.  His  mind  was  comprehensive  and  philanthropic  not 
less  than  ingenious  ;  and  it  was  by  the  inspiration  of  these  senti- 
ments that  he  achieved  his  triumphs.  We  have  had  countless 
fellow-countrymen  of  a  mechanical  turn,  but  no  one  who  united 


*  The  following  letter,  in  reference  to  this  event,  was  addressed  by  Fulton  to 
Joel  Barlow,  Philadelphia : 

"  New  York,  August  2, 1807. 

"  My  dear  Friend  :  My  steamboat  voyage  to  Albany  and  back  has  turned 
out  rather  more  favorable  than  I  had  calculated.  The  distance  from  New  York 
to  Albany  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  ;  I  ran  it  up  in  thirty-two  hours,  and 
down  in  thirty.  The  latter  is  just  five  miles  an  hour.  I  had  a  light  breeze 
against  me  the  whole  way  going  and  coming,  so  that  no  use  was  made  of  my 
sails  ;  and  the  whole  voyage  has  been  performed  by  the  power  of  the  engine.  I 
overtook  many  sloops  and  schooners  beating  to  windward,  and  passed  them  as  if 
they  had  been  at  anchor. 

"  The  power  of  propelling  boats  by  steam  is  now  fully  proved.  The  morning  I 
left  New  York,  there  were  not,  perhaps,  thirty  thousand  people  in  the  city  who 
believed  the  boat  would  ever  move  a  mile  an  hour,  or  be  of  the  least  utility.  And 
while  we  were  putting  off  from  the  wharf,  which  was  crowded  with  spectators,  I 
heard  a  number  of  sarcastic  remarks.  This  is  the  way,  you  know,  in  which  some 
people  compliment  what  they  call  philosophers  and  projectors. 

"  Having  employed  much  time,  and  money,  and  zeal,  in  accomplishing  this  work, 
it  gives  me,  as  it  will  give  you,  great  pleasure  to  see  it  so  fully  answer  my  expec- 
tations. It  will  give  a  cheap  and  quick  conveyance  to  merchandise  on  the  Missis- 
sippi and  Slissouri  rivers,  which  are  now  laying  open  their  treasures  to  the  enter- 
prise of  our  countrymen.  And  although  the  prospect  of  personal  emolument  has 
been  some  inducement  to  me,  yet  I  feel  infinitely  more  pleasure  in  reflecting  with 
you  on  the  immense  advantage  that  my  country  will  derive  from  the  invention.'' 


ROBERT     FULTON.  181 

with  such  a  taste  so  genuine  and  earnest  a  public  spirit.  This 
was  evinced  everywhere  and  on  all  occasions.  Thus,  when  in 
France,  he  corresponded  with  Carnot  to  persuade  him  to  adopt 
the  principles  of  free-trade ;  his  leisure  in  Paris  was  devoted  to 
the  execution  of  the  first  panorama  ever  seen  there,  a  branch  of 
art  since  widely  cultivated,  and  one  to  the  scientific  value  of 
which  Humboldt  gives  eloquent  testimony.  He  wrote  an  urgent 
appeal  to  the  citizens  of  Philadelphia  to  purchase  West's  pictures 
as  the  foundation  of  an  American  gallery ;  and,  failing  to  enlist 
their  aid,  bought  the  two  most  characteristic  of  them  himself,  that 
his  country  might  possess  some  evidence  of  her  first  artist's  skill, 
and  bequeathed  them  and  his  other  works  of  art  to  the  Academy 
of  New  York.  He  induced  West  to  make  designs  for  Barlow's 
ponderous  epic,  and  had  them  engraved  and  the  work  published 
at  his  own  expense.  His  avowed  object  in  the  torpedo  invention, 
w^hich  he  carried  forward  from  one  tried  during  the  Revolution, 
was  to  annihilate  war  by  rendering  it  absolutely  instead  of  rela- 
tively destructive.  His  cable-cutter,  plans  for  floating  docks,  and 
other  incidental  enterprises,  show  an  indefatigable  activity  in  the 
intervals  of  his  more  important  scheme.  He  impaired  his  consti- 
tution by  too  long  a  fast  while  repairing  his  submarine  boat,  in 
France,  after  a  storm  ;  and  his  life  was  sacrificed  to  the  impru- 
dent zeal  with  which  he  travelled,  at  mid-winter,  from  Trenton, 
where  his  great  law-suit  was  pending,  and  the  exposure  incurred 
in  superintending  the  construction  of  his  original  steam-frigate. 

Thus  intent  upon  some  great  undertaking,  the  philosophy  of 
which  he  eloquently  expounded,  while  its  practical  details 
absorbed  his  active  faculties,  he  pursued  his  way  unbaffied  by 
repeated  failures,  and  undiscouraged  by  poverty  and  ridicule. 
He  possessed  the  sublime  patience  of  genius,  maintained  his 
cheerfulness  under  the  failure  of  successive  experiments,  and 
manfully  lived  down  the  obstacles  that  crowded  his  path ;  now 
ardently  reasoning  for  the  freedom  of  the  seas,  like  a  statesman, 
and  now  sketching  a  grotesque  figure  by  the  road-side  in  Hol- 
land, like  a  vagrant  artist ;  now  trying  his  long  disused  pencil 
upon  the  portrait  of  a  friend,  and,  again,  alarming  a  crowd  by 
explaining  the  explosive  power  of  a  submarine  battery ;  on  the 
waters  of  the  Seine,  in  .the  harbor  of  Rotterdam,  about  the  quays 


132  THE     MECHANICIAN. 

of  New  York,  his  thin,  active  figure  glided  to  and  fro,  as  he 
directed  some  experiment,  while  his  dark  eye  glowed,  and  his  un- 
covered hair  fluttered  in  the  wind  over  his  projecting  brow,  and 
some  gazed  on  with  frigid  curiosity,  others  with  a  shrug  of  com- 
passionate incredulity,  and  a  few  with  intelligent  admiration  at 
the  enthusiasm,  simplicity,  and  confidence  of  genius.  We  are  not 
surprised  that  Avhen  he  received  the  first  passage-money  ever  paid 
for  a  steamboat  trip,  in  the  little  cabin  of  the  Clermont,  he  shed 
tears  at  the  tangible  evidence  of  a  public  recognition  of  the  suc- 
cess of  his  experiment,  the  crowning  achievement  of  a  life  of 
study,  disappointment,  and  irrepressible  ardor.  The  latter  quality 
is  doubtless  attributable  to  Fulton's  Irish  origin,  as  well  as  the 
instinctive  and  generous  feeling  which  endeared  him  to  his  friends. 
He  not  only  won  but  retained  attachment,  and  was  fortunate,  even 
under  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  in  having  the  sympathy  of 
men  of  character  and  talent.  Pranklin  and  West  cheered  his 
early  life,  and  its  maturity  was  sustained  by  the  cooperation  of 
Livingston,  whose  sister  he  married. 

The  charge  made  against  Fulton's  patriotism  and  honorable 
consistency,  in  regard  to  his  offer  of  his  submarine  invention  to 
different  foreign  governments,  appears  to  have  been  quite  gratui- 
tous. It  is  evident  from  his  writings,  and  the  well  authenticated 
history  of  his  life  in  Europe,  that  his  great  object  was  to  create 
a  reputation,  and  perfect  inventions  there,  with  a  view  to  return 
with  them  to  his  own  country.  At  that  period  no  aspirant,  either 
in  letters,  science,  or  art,  could  fail  to  perceive  how  requisite  for 
success  in  the  New  World  was  an  endorsement  from  the  Old ;  and 
the  superior  facilities  there  afforded  in  every  branch  of  study,  as 
well  as  the  greater  sympathy  extended  to  the  original  inquirer 
and  the  gifted  votary,  were  equally  obvious.  In  each  instance 
that  Fulton  contracted  with  a  foreign  power  for  aid  in  his  torpedo 
experiments,  and  guaranteed,  in  case  of  success,  the  exclusive 
benefit  of  the  invention,  he  made  a  special  exception  in  favor  of 
his  native  land.  Thither  he  sent  the  written  results  of  his  studies ; 
and  it  was  with  his  own  countrymen  that  he  united  himself  in 
almost  every  useful  project.  Few  Americans  of  that  day  were  so 
alive  to  the  extraordinary  local  aptitudes  and  unequalled  natural 
advantages  of  this  contuient.     It  would  seem  as  if  a  wise  Provi- 


ROBERT     FULTON.  133 

dence  raised  up  this  energetic  mechanical  genius  at  the  very 
moment  that  more  rapid  and  frequent  intercommunication  became 
essential,  not  only  to  the  prosperity,  but  to  the  nationality  of  a 
country  destined  to  form  a  new,  grand,  and  free  arena  for 
humanity.  His  keen  and  comprehensive  glance  took  in  the 
immense  line  of  sea-coast,  the  vast  and  numerous  inland  lakes, 
and  the  mighty  rivers  of  states  embracing  every  variety  of 
climate,  soil,  and  natural  resource ;  and  he  felt,  and  earnestly 
announced  the  conviction,  that  only  by  an  intercourse  at  once 
easy,  cheap,  rapid,  and  constant,  would  it  be  possible  to  render 
produce  available,  to  bring  the  inhabitants  into  sympathetic  rela- 
tions, and  to  stamp  unity  of  expression  and  character  upon  the 
nation.  The  steam-engine  and  the  electric  telegraph  have 
wrought  this  miracle  ;  and  illustrated  signally  in  this  country 
the  truth  of  a  statesman's  assertion,  that  mechanical  power  is  the 
vital  principle  of  the  age.  This  is  not  only  evident  in  physical 
results;  by  creating  leisure  through  economizing  human  labor, 
by  rapidly  transmitting  intelligence,  and  multiplying  the  means  of 
security,  progress,  and  development,  mechanical  genius  not  only 
emancipates  man  from  the  tyranny  of  nature,  but  continually 
multiplies  her  beneficent  agency  in  his  behalf 

It  is  usual  to  consider  imagination  and  reason  in  an  antagonis- 
tic view ;  but  the  analysis  of  character  and  genius  often  reveals 
their  mutual  action  and  united  result.  To  the  inventive  mind, 
in  all  departments  of  science  and  art,  ideality  is  essential  as  the 
faculty  which  prefigures  and  anticipates  what,  if  only  realized  by 
actual  degrees,  would  scarcely  sustain  the  courage  and  hope  of 
the  seeker.  Hence  the  enthusiasm,  the  prophetic  spirit,  and  the 
confidence  of  genius  —  founded  on  prescience,  on  the  vision  of  the 
"  mind's  eye."  Thus  imagination  gives  enlargement  and  foresight, 
and  is  the  source  of  inspiring  presentiment.  To  wholly  practical 
and  unsympathetic  men,  however,  those  endowed  by  nature  with 
this  ardor,  faith  in  the  unachieved,  and  earnestness  in  its  pursuit, 
are  stigmatized  as  visionary  until  crowned  with  the  garland  of 
success,  when  the  loudest  scofiers  are  usually  most  extravagant 
in  their  laudation.  All  innovators  upon  the  ordinary  belief  and 
practice  of  mankind  pass  through  this  ordeal.  Columbus  was  but 
a  dreamer  in  the  estimation  of  his  countrymen  until  he  discovered 
12 


134  THE     MECHANICIAN. 

a  continent.  Had  Fi-anklin  announced  his  electrical  theory  before 
provided  with  evidence  to  uphold  it,  or  Davj  his  nitrous  oxide,  or 
Morse  his  telegraphic  chirography,  they  would  have  shared  the 
same  convenient  title.  Fulton  endured  an  unusual  share  of  indif- 
ference, not  to  say  contempt,  while  prosecuting  his  mechanical 
researches.  It  is  related  that  when  he  applied,  in  his  native  city, 
to  a  celebrated  polemic  for  contributions  toward  steam-navigation 
experiments,  that  his  eloquent  argument  in  behalf  of  the  cause 
was  answered  by  the  oracular  theologian  with  the  complacent 
statement  that  his  own  mind  was  absorbed  in  an  inquiry  of  so 
much  greater  importance,  namely,  the  discovery  of  all  the  facts 
relating  to  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego,  that  he  could  not 
attend  to  so  idle  a  proposition.  A  few  years  have  elapsed  since 
the  interview,  and  the  polemic's  thick  octavo  on  the  book  of  Dan- 
iel is  already  covered  with  the  dust  of  oblivion ;  while  the  fruits 
of  Fulton's  constancy  and  genius  are  transforming  the  aspect  of 
the  earth,  and  giving  wings  to  the  progress  of  civilization.  But  it 
was  his  fate  not  only  to  contend  with  the  scepticism  of  the  learned, 
and  the  prejudices  of  the  ignorant,  who  gave  him  the  name  of 
"  crazy  Fulton  ;  "  he  also  encountered,  though  with  a  dignified 
and  urbane  patience  highly  creditable  to  his  manhood,  the  slights 
of  the  moneyed  aristocracy.  This  incubus  upon  social  progress  in 
a  republic  is  doubtless  a  necessary,  but  in  all  probability  a  tem- 
porary evil,  incident  to  the  early  stage  of  national  development  in 
a  free  country  devoted  to  commerce.  There  is,  however,  an  essen- 
tial opposition  between  the  spirit  of  ti-ade  and  the  victories  of 
intellect.  In  the  former,  attention  to  details  and  routine  is  the 
law  of  success ;  in  the  latter,  superiority  to  immediate  interests, 
and  absorption  in  large  and  diflficult  undertakings  of  prospective 
utility,  are  equally  requisite.  Yet  pecuniary  means,  which  in 
this  country  are  in  the  hands  of  the  mercantile  class,  are  often 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  cause  of  experimental  science  and  art ; 
and  their  votaries  are,  therefore,  placed  in  a  position  of  depend- 
ence which  the  very  nature  of  the  case  renders  galling  to  self- 
respect.  The  poverty  of  Fulton  and  his  humble  origin,  as  well 
as  his  utter  indifference  to  the  distinction  of  mere  wealth,  rendered 
him  an  inauspicious  suitor  to  power  based  on  money.  He  regarded 
mechanical  science  as  an  interest  so  vital  to  human  welfare  that  it 


ROBERT     FULTON.  135 

should  be  deemed  a  privilege  and  not  a  tax  to  promote  it ;  and 
wealth,  in  bis  estimation,  was  only  a  means ;  its  devotees,  tbere- 
fore,  found  little  that  was  congenial  in  the  noble  mechanician,  and 
amused  themselves  with  what  they  considered  his  pretensions, 
instead  of  reaping  honor  by  generous  cooperation  with  him  in  his 
great  designs.  Among  professional  men,  however,  he  was 
respected  and  beloved  to  an  extent  that  amply  consoled  him  under 
all  social  disparagement.  The  address  of  his  friend,  the  celebrated 
Addis  Emmctt..in  his  argument  for  Fulton's  rights  as  a  patentee, 
when  he  urged  him  to  call  back  his  thoughts  from  inventive 
speculation  and  patriotic  schemes,  and  remember  what  was  due  to 
his  family,  is  one  of  the  most  affecting  personal  appeals  on 
record ;  and  is  said  to  have  been  profoundly  impressive  in  delivery. 
It  eloc^uently  assures  us  of  the  contemporary  estimation  in  which 
Fulton  was  held  by  those  capable  of  appreciating  original  merit. 
In  Chancellor  Livingston,  also,  he  found,  not  only  a  consistent 
friend,  but  an  efficient  coadjutor ;  and,  although  his  experience  of 
the  "  law's  delay  "  was  sufficient  to  damp  the  ardor  of  a  less 
mercurial  temperament,  and  embarrassment  and  vexation  continued 
to  baffle  him  to  the  last,  his  serene  firmness  of  purpose  and  genial 
animation  of  heart  remained  intact.  He  lived  his  own  life,  and 
was  true  to  the  reigning  impulse  of  his  nature.  It  was,  there- 
fore, by  virtue  of  his  character  that  he  achieved  his  purposes,  not 
less  than  through  inventive  talent.  He  persevered  bravely  in 
following  truth  to  a  practical  issue,  and  thus  bequeathed  an  incal- 
culable benefit  to  mankind,  and  conferred  permanent  honor  upon 
his  country  and  his  name. 


THE  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER 

JOHN    CONSTABLE. 


The  quiet  and  isolated  life  of  a  genuine  landscape  painter  has 
seldom  been  more  consistently  illustrated  than  in  the  memoirs  of 
John  Constable.  His  letters,  collected  and  arranged  by  his  friend 
Leslie,  open  to  our  view  an  existence  ideal  in  spirit,  and  the  more 
remarkable  from  the  absolute  contrast  it  aflfords  to  the  frivolous, 
versatile,  and  bustling  social  atmosphere  in  which  it  was  chiefly 
passed.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  to  embody  the  most  natural  and 
characteristic  phase  of  English  life  —  the  rural  sentiment,  if  we 
may  so  call  it ;  for  to  Constable  this  was  the  inspiration  and  the 
central  light  of  experience.  He  first  rises  to  the  imagination  as 
"the  handsome  miller"  of  a  highly-cultivated  and  picturesque 
district  in  Suffolk  ;  and,  since  Tennyson's  charming  poem  of  the 
"  Miller's  Daughter,"  a  romantic  association  easily  attaches  itself 
to  that  vocation.  To  the  young  artist,  however,  it  was  actually 
a  better  initiation  to  his  future  pursuit  than  might  readily  be  sup- 
posed. Two  phases  of  nature,  or  rather  the  aspects  of  two  of  her 
least  appreciated  phenomena,  were  richly  unfolded  to  his  observ- 
ant eye  —  the  wind  and  sky ;  and  to  his  early  and  habitual 
study  of  these  may  be  ascribed  the  singular  truthfulness  of  his 
delineation,  and  the  loyal  manner  in  which  he  adhered,  through 
llife,  to  the  facts  of  scenery. 

It  seems  to  us  that  the  process  by  which  he  arrived  at  what 
imay  be  called  the  original  elements  of  his  art  is  identical  with 
ithat  of  Wordsworth  in  poetry ;  and  his  admiration  of  the  bard 


JOHN     CONSTABLE.  137 

arose  not  more  from  just  perception  than  from  the  possession  of 
a  like  idiosyncrasy.  They  resemble  each  other  in  discovering 
beauty  and  interest  in  the  humblest  and  most  familiar  objects  ; 
and  in  an  unswerving  faith  in  the  essential  charm  of  nature  under 
every  guise.  Thus  the  very  names  of  Constable's  best  pictures 
evince  a  bold  simplicity  of  taste  akin  to  that  which  at  first  brought 
ridicule,  and  afterwards  homage,  to  the  venerated  poet.  A  mill, 
with  its  usual  natural  accessories,  continued  a  favorite  subject 
with  the  painter  to  the  last ;  and  he  sorely  grieved  when  a  fire 
destroyed  the  first  specimen  that  his  pencil  immortalized.  A 
harvest-field,  a  village  church,  a  ford,  a  pier,  a  heath,  a  wain,  — 
scenes  exhibited  to  his  eye  in  boyhood,  and  to  the  daily  vision  of 
farmers,  sportsmen,  and  country  gentlemen, — were  those  to  which 
his  sympathies  habitually  clung.  No  compliment  seems  ever  to 
have  delighted  him  more  than  the  remark  of  a  stranger  in  the 
Suffolk  coach,  "This  is  Constable's  country."  His  custom  was 
to  pass  weeks  in  the  fields,  and  sketch  clouds,  trees,  uplands  — 
whatever  object  or  scene  could  be  rendered  picturesque  on  can- 
vas ;  to  gather  herbs,  mosses,  colored  earth,  feathers,  and  lichens, 
and  imitate  their  hues  exactly.  So  intent  was  he  at  times  in 
sketching,  that  field-mice  would  creep  unalarmed  into  his  pockets. 
But,  perhaps,  the 'natural  beauties  that  most  strongly  attracted 
him  were  evanescent ;  the  sweep  of  a  cloud,  the  gathering  of  a 
tempest,  the  effect  of  wind  on  corn-fields,  woods,  and  streams, 
and,  above  all,  the  play  of  light  and  shade.  So  truly  were  these 
depicted,  that  Fuseli  declared  he  often  was  disposed  to  call  for  his 
coat  and  umbrella  before  one  of  Constable's  landscapes  represent- 
ing a  transition  state  of  the  elements. 

His  fame  gradually  widened.  The  artists  of  Paris  first  appre- 
ciated his  excellence  ;  and  it  has  been  said  that  he  "  was  as  much 
the  originator  of  modern  French  landscapes,  as  Scott  was  of 
French  romance."  When  he  came  in  after. a  day's  sketching,  he 
would  sometimes  say,  "  I  have  had  a  good  skying."  His  clouds 
best  attest  the  rarity  of  his  skill,  as  Avell  in  the  lucci^  depths  as 
when  completely  eff'ulgent. 

If  there  be  a  single  genuine  poetic  instinct  in  the  English  mind, 
it  is  that  which  allies  them  to  country  life.  The  poets  of  that  nation 
have  never  been  excelled  either  in  rural  description  or  in  con- 
12* 


138*  -  THE     LANDSCAPE     PAINTER. 

yeying  the  sentiment  to  which  such  tastes  gave  birth.  What  we 
Recognize  in  Constable  is  the  artistic  development  of  this  national 
trait.  We  perceive  at  a  glance  that  he  was  "  native  here,  and  to 
the  manner  born."  There  is  an  utter  absence  of  exaggeration,  — 
at  least  in  the  still  life  of  his  pictures,  —  while  no  one  can  mis- 
take the  latitude  of  his  atmospheres.  They  are  not  American, 
nor  European,  but  thoroughly  English.  A  great  source  of  his 
aptitude  was  a  remarkable  local  attachment.  He  not  only  saw 
distinctly  tlie  minute  features  of  a  limited  scene,  or  a  character- 
istic group  of  objects,  but  he  loved  them.  He  had  the  fondness 
for  certain  rural  spots  which  Lamb  confessed  for  particular 
metropolitan  haunts ;  and,  therefore,  it  was  not  necessary  for 
him,  in  order  to  paint  with  feeling,  to  combine  scattered  beauties, 
as  is  the  case  with  less  individual  limners,  nor  to  borrow  or 
invent  accessories  to  set  off  his  chosen  subject;  but  only  to 
elicit,  by  patient  attention,  such  favorable  moments  and  incidents 
as  were  best  fitted  to  exhibit  it  to  advantage. 

In  this  way,  few  painters  have  done  more  to  suggest  the  infinite 
natural  resources  of  their  art.  Its  poetry  to  him  was  two-fold, 
consisting  of  the  associations  and  of  the  intrinsic  beauty  of  the 
scene.  There  is  often  evident  in  genius  a  kind  of  sublime  com- 
rhon  9ensi0  —  an  intuitive  intelligence,  which  careless  observers 
mliM^  sometimes  for  obstinacy  or  waywardness.  Constable 
dispmyed  it  in  fidelity  to  his  sphere,  notwithstanding  many 
temptations  to  wander  from  it.  He  felt  that  portrait  and  histor- 
ical painting  were  not  akin  either  to  his  taste  or  highest  ability ; 
and  that  the  ambitious  and  elaborate  in  landscape  would  give  no 
scope  to  his:  talent.  In  his  view  Art  was  not  less  a  thing  of  feel- 
ing than  of -knowledge ;  and  it  was  a  certain  indescribable  senti- 
ment in  the  skies  of  Claude,  and  the  composition  of  Ruysdael, 
that  endeaBfid  them  to  him  more  than  mere  fidelity  to  detail. 
Accordingly,  he  labored  with  zest  only  upon  subjects  voluntarily 
undertaken^  and  to  which  he  felt  drawn  by  a  spontaneous  attrac- 
tion ;  and  ^ver  these  he  rarely  failed  to  throw  the  grace  of  a 
fresh  and  vivid  conception.  The  word  ''  handling  "  was  his  aver- 
sion, because  he  saw  no  evidence  of  it  in  nature,  and  looked  upon 
her  loving  delineator  as  working,  not  in  a  mechanical,  but  in  a 
sympathetic  relation.     '-There  is  room  enough,"  he  says,  "  for  a 


JOHN     CONSTABLE.  139 

natural  painter.  The  great  vice  of  the  present  day  is  bravura  — 
an  attempt  to  do  something  beyond  the  truth."  Harvest-men 
were  to  him  more  charming  than  peers ;  and  the  rustle  of  foliage 
sweeter  than  the  hum  of  conversaziones. 

In  the  foreground  of  a  picture  of  a  cathedral,  described  by 
Leslie,  ''  he  intopduced  a  circumstance  familiar  to  all  who  are  in 
the  habit  of  n(Mcing  cattle.  With  cows  there  is  generally,  if  not 
always,  one  which  is  called,  not  very  accurately,  the  master  cow, 
and  there  is  scarcely  anything  the  rest  of  the  herd  wilf  venture 
to  do  until  the  master  has  taken  the  lead.  On  the  left  of  the 
picture  this  individual  is  drinking,  and  turns  with  surprise  and 
jealousy  to  another  cow  approaching  the  canal  lower  down  for 
the  same  purpose.  They  are  of  the  Suffolk  breed,  without  horn^.; 
and  it  is  a  curious  mark  of  Constable's  fondness  for  everything 
connected  with  his  native  county,  that  scarcely  an  instance  can' 
be  found  of  a  cow  in  any  of  his  pictures,  be  the  scene  where  it 
may,  with  horns."  "  Still  life,"  says  his  friend  Fisher,  on  the 
receipt  of  one  of  his  pictures,  "  is  always  dull,  as  there  are  no 
associations  with  it ;  this  is  so  deliclously  fresh,  that  I  could  not 
resist  it."  These  epithets  reveal  the  secret  of  Constable's  effects. 
What  truly  interests  us,  derives,  from  the  very  enthusiasm  with 
which  it  is  regarded,  a  vital  charm,  which  gives  relish  and  lm.-« 
pressiveness  even  to  description  in  words,  and  far  more  ^  in 
lines  and  colors.  The  "cool  tint  of  English  daylight"  refreshes 
the  eye  in  his  best  attempts;  "bright,  not  gaudy,  but  deep  and 
clear."  It  is  curious  that  the  term  "healthy"  has  been. applied 
to  Constable's  coloring  —  the  very  idea  we  instinctively  associate 
with  ih)  real  landscape  of  his  country. 

A  neAspaper,  describing  an  exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
thus  speaks  of  one  of  his  pictures,  and  it  gives,  as  far  as  words 
can,  a  just  notion  of  his  style  of  art :  "A  scene  without  any 
prominent  features  of  the  grand  and  beautiful,  but  with  a  rich, 
broken  foreground  sweetly  pencilled,  and  a  very  pleasing  and 
natural  tone  of  color  throughout  the  wild,  green  distancd^  The 
inimitable  Jack  Bannister  said  of  another,  that  "  from  it  he  could 
feel  the  wind  blowinor  on  his  face."  Constable  was  deli<]rhted 
with  the  pertinacity  of  a  little  boy,  who,  in  repeating  his  cate- 
chism, would  not  say  otherwise  than,  "and  walk  in  the  same 


140.  THE     LANDSCAPE.    PAINTER. 

fields  all  the  days  of  my  life;"  he  declared,  "  Our Jdeas  of 
happiness  are  the  same."  He  also  recorded  his  earnest  assent  to 
the  remark  of  a  friend,  that  "  the  whole  object  and  difficulty  of 
the  art  is  to  unite  imaginatio?i'tvi^h^72ature.^^  In  one  of  his 
letters,  he  says  :  "I  can  hardly  wlite  for  looking  at  the  silvery 
clouds."  Speaking t)f  one  of  hjs  own  landscapes^he  iildulges  in 
a  remark,  the  complacency  of  "which  ipay^bo^rBdily  forgiven  : 
"  I  have  preserved  God  Almighty's  daylight,  :v^ijiqli  is  enjoyed 
by  all  mankind,  excepting  only  the  lovers  of  old  dirty  canvas, 
perished  pictures  at  a  thousand  guineas  each,  cart-grease,  tar, 
and  snuff  of  candle." 

It  is  thus  obvious  that  he  pursued  his  art  in  a  spirit  of  inde- 
pendence, and  with  a  manly  directness  of  purpose,  which  neither 
fashion  nor  interest  for  an  instant  modified.  The  sentiment  which 
impelled  him  was  the  love  of  nature,  and  this,  like  the  other 
love  referred  to  by  Shakspeare,  "  lends  a  precious  seeing  to  the 
eye."  It  was  not  a  vague  emotion,  but  a  definite  attachment; 
and  he  possessed  the  rare  moral  courage  to  act  it  out.  This  the 
biography  of  artists  convinces  us  is  true  wisdom.  It  would  have 
been  only  the  folly  of  a  perverse  ambition  for  Constable  to  have 
emulated  the  old  Italian  masters,  and  produced  saints,  madonnas, 
and  martyrs.  The  scenery  of  his  native  country  was  not  more 
familiar  to  his  eye  than  endeared  to  his  heart ;  and  so  attentively 
and  fondly  had  he  explored  it  that  he  used  to  declare  he  never 
saw  an  ugly  thing,  whose  intrinsic  homeliness  was  not  relieved  by 
some  effect  of  light,  shade,  or  perspective.  His  delight  in  nature 
was,  indeed,  inexhaustible.  He  has  been  quaintly  said  to  have 
known  the  language  of  a  windmill ;  and  the  most  common  forms 
of  architecture,  the  most  familiar  toils  of  the  husbandman,  and 
the  ordinary  habits  of  animals,  wore  significance  to  his  eye,  because 
of  the  vast  and  intimate  beauty  amid  which  they  are  visible,  and 
with  which  they  are  associated.  Simplicity  was  his  great  charac- 
teristic, giving  birth  to  that  truth  to  himself  which  involves  and 
secures  igt^th  to  nature,  both  in  art  and  in  literature.  His  taste 
w^  permanently  opposed  to  the  factitious  and  the  conven- 
tional, and  never  swerved  in  its  allegiance  to  the  primal  and 
enduring. 

Landscape  painting,  in  its  best  significance,  is  a  representation 


^  J  0  HN  •  C  ONS'T  AB  LE.  141 

not  only  bf  the  form*  and  aspects,  but  of  the  sentiment  of  nature. 
If  we  regard  it  in  its  broad  relations,  it' ma^be^  said  to  have  a 
scientific  and  national  value,  as  the  autheKtiqiimag^of  tKe*features 
of  the  universe," »inodified  by  climate,  •vegetation,  and -l^tory, 
eminently  illustrative  to  the  naturali'^t  andTvtkJB' aTa.tes'fnan.  Ttere 
are  few  ae]S5^'ri|Knts  .of  art  more  suggesti\V.^  xhe  camel  group 
and  palrn^i*  e^^  %lastern  scenery,  the  snowy  peaks  of  Alpine 
mountains,  Wb^Kixuriant  foliage  of  the  tropics,  and  the  ruined 
arch,  shrine,  and  aloe,  of  southern  Europe,  each,  in  turn,  convey  to 
the  mind  of  the  spectator  hints  that  imagination  easily  expands 
into  entire  countries.  To  the  patriotic  sympathies  its  appeal  is 
inevitable  ;  and  the  portfolios  of  travellers  often  contain  the  most 
satisfactory  memorials  of  their  pilgrimage.  Few,  except  artists, 
however,  realize  the  variety  of  meaning  and  the  characteristic  in 
scenery ;  and  the  number  who  recognize  the  minor  and  shifting 
language  of  the  external  world  is  still  more  limited.  Yet  even 
the  insensible  and  unobservant,  during  a  voyage,  and  when  con- 
fined to  a  particular  spot  and  isolated  from  society,  will  sometimes 
note  attentively  many  successive  sunsets,  or  the  effect  of  the  sea- 
sons upon  a  familiar  prospect,  and  thus  gradually  aAvaken  to  that 
world  of  vision  through  which,  when  more  preoccupied,  they 
move  almost  unconscious  of  its  ever-changing  expression. 

The  eloquent  work  of  Ruskin  on  the  modern  painters,  whether 
its  theories  are  accepted  or  not,  ably  unfolds  the  extent  of  interest 
derivable  from  this  subject ;  but  there  is  one  common  instinct  to 
the  gratification  of  which  it  ministers  more  than  any  branch  of 
art  —  that  of  local  association.  A  good  picture  of  a  birthplace, 
the  scene  of  early  life,  of  historical  incident  or  poetical  associa- 
tion, is  invaluable ;  and  this  feeling  has  been  greatly  deepened  by 
the  transition  of  the  art  from  graphic  imitation  to  a  picturesque 
reflection  of  the  sentiment  of  a  landscape.  Herein  lies  its  poetry. 
It  is  this  soulful  beauty  that  gives  an  undying  charm  to  the  sun- 
sets of  Claude,  and  has  created  an  epoch  in  art'  by  the  glorious 
effects  of  Turner.  Indeed,  the  ideality  of  the  English  mind  has 
nowhere  asserted  itself  more  successfully  than  in  her  school  ^f 
modem  landscape.  Morland  and  Gainsborough  set  an  example 
of  truth  and  feeling,  which  has  been  carried  onward  by  such 
painters  as  Wilson  and  Constable.     Genuine  simplicity, —  that 


142  THE     LANDSCAPE     PAINTER. 

manly  Anglo-Saxon  freedom  from  extravagance,  and  repose  upon 
nature,  —  in  such  works  is  as  clearly  revealed  as  in  the  nobler 
literature  and  wholesome  habits  of  the  nation. 

There  is  a  beautiful  harmony  between  the  character  and  pur- 
suit of  Constable..  His  time  was  given  only  to  art  and  domestic 
life,  the  routine  of ^vliich  knew  no  variation,  excftpt  an  occasional 
visit  to  Sir  George  Beaumont  or  Fisher.  Hia  cecity  to  inspire 
lasting  attachment — a  quality  which  seems  to  be  t^e  birthright 
of  genius  —  is  delightfully  apparent  in  his  correspondence  with 
the  latter  friend.  "  Dear  Constable,"  he  writes,  when  the  artist 
was  in  trouble,  "  you  want  a  staff  just  now;  lean  hard  on  me." 
The  integrity  of  true  affection  is  also  manifest  in  his  intercourse 
with  the  object  of  his  early  and  latest  love.  The  patience,  self- 
respect,  and  gentleness,  with  which  they  endured  the  long  and 
unreasonable  opposition  to  their  marriage, —  the  unfailing  comfort 
imparted  by  their  mutual  regard,  the  blending  of  good  sense, 
principle,  and  sentiment,  in  their  relation  to  each  other,  from 
first  to  last,  —  are  results  only  obtainable  where  generous,  affec- 
tionate, and  intelligent  natures  coalesce.  The  painter's  love  of 
children,  humorous  mention  of  his  cat,  constant  kindness  to  a 
poor  organist  and  unfortunate  paint-grinder  —  his  longings  for 
home  when  absent  —  his  delight  there  in  the  intervals  of  his  toil 
' —  his  charities,  friendliness,  and  geniality,  accord  with  the  sweet- 
ness of  his  taste. 

"  Whenever  I  find  a  man,"  says  Milton,  "  despising  the  false 
estimates  of  the  vulgar,  and  daring  to  aspire  in  sentiment,  lan- 
guage, and  conduct,  to  what  the  highest  wisdom  in  every  age  has 
taught  us  as  most  excellent,  to  him  I  unite  myself  by  a  sort  of 
necessary  attachment."  By  such  a  process  Constable  mainly 
rose  in  art,  and  kept  the  even  tenor  of  his  life.  The  apprecia- 
tion of  his  artistic  merits  was  very  slow,  as  is  obvious  from  the 
number  of  pictures  in  his  studio  at  the  time  of  his  decease.  Con- 
temporary artists  criticized  oftener  than  they  commended  him. 
His  ideas  of  his  art,  as  expressed  in  conversation  and  in  his  lec- 
tures, were  "  caviare  to  the  general."  His  election  as  an  acade- 
mician :was  a  deserved  honor,  but  somewhat  grudgingly  bestowed. 
His  finances  were  often  at  the  lowest  ebb,  his  domestic  cares 
unceasing;    illness   frequently  weighed  down   his   spirits,   and 


JOHN     CONSTABLE.  143 

bereavements  caused  his  heart  to  bleed  again  and  again,  especially 
when  his  wife  followed  his  parents  to  the  land  of  shadows.  But, 
through  all,  he  lived  in  his  affections  and  his  art,  with  rare  fidel- 
ity and  singleness  of  heart ;  and  his  friends,  and  the  beauty  of 
his  pictures,  will  long  reflect  his  genial,  serene,  and  consistent 
nature. 


k.r^ 


THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  Rl^GIME. 

i 

CHATEAUBRIAND. 


FllkNgOIS-AUGUSTE  YlCOMTE  DE  CHATEAUBRIAND  associated 

his  name  with  so  many  places  and  ideas,  that  almost  every  one,  at 
some  time  or  other,  is  drawn  into  an  imaginative  relation  with 
him.  The  picture  which  first  caught  my  eye,  on  entering  the 
Louvre,  was  one  representing  an  aged  monk  and  a  handsome  youth 
about  to  commit  the  body  of  a  lovely  maiden  to  a  grave,  obviously 
hollowed  by  themselves,  in  the  verdant  depths  of  a  forest.  The 
pious  tranquillity  of  the  aged  priest,  the  despairing  grief  of  the 
young  lover,  and  the  exquisite  loveliness  of  the  corpse,  instantly 
revealed  that  unity  of  eflfect  which  leaves  an  indelible  impression 
On  turning  to  the  catalogue,  I  found  the  painting  entitled  "The 
Burial  of  Atala."  With  this  souvenir  of  Chateaubriand,  encoun- 
tered within  a  week  of  landing  in  Europe,  is  linked  the  memory 
of  the  only  Breton  I  ever  knew.  We  stood  together  on  the  Cam- 
panile at  Venice,  and,  while  discussing  that  curious  impulse  which 
assails  nervous  organizations  when  looking  down  from  a  height, 
and  induces  an  almost  irresistible  desire  to  leap,  he  calmly  ob- 
served that  it  was  his  intention  to  gratify  the  propensity,  in  a  few 
months,  by  springing  from  the  precipitous  cliff  that  bounded  his 
family  domain  in  Brittany.  Many  days  of  previous  intercourse 
with  this  suicidal  youth  had  revealed  a  thoughtful,  self-possessed, 
and  highly  cultivated  mind,  that  forbade  my  ascribing  his  remark 
to  mere  eccentricity ;  and  his  melancholy  view  of  life  and  his  fine 
endowments'  associate  him  in  my  recollection  with  his   gifted 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  145 

CQuntrjman,  who,  at  a  similar  age,  "arrested  the  fowling-piece 
with  a  tear." 

Chateaubriand  owed  his  first  literary  fame  to  American  sul>- 
jects;  through  him  our  country  assumed  a  poetical  interest  to 
European  minds  —  although,  it  must  be  confessed,  this  result  is  to 
be  ascribed  rather  to  the  fancy  and  enthusiasm  than  the  authen- 
ticity of  the  writer.  Lafayette  had  just  returned  to  France,  and 
awakened  there  a  sentiment  of  glory  in  behalf  of  the  new  repub- 
lic whose  liberties  he  had  assisted  to  rescue ;  and,  while  this  feel- 
ing was  yet  prevalent,  appeared  the  vivid  descriptions  of  nature 
and  the  forest-life  of  the  distant  continent,  from  the  glowing  pen 
of  Chateaubriand.  The  vicissitudes  of  his  career,  the  tenacity  of 
his  opinions  and  sympathies,  his  extensive  wanderings,  and  espe- 
cially the  remarkable  identity  of  the  man  w^ith  his  country  and 
the  age,  render  his  memoirs  of  unusual  interest.  They  exhibit 
the  history  of  an  eventful  era,  mirrored,  as  it  were,  upon  a 
reflective  and  ardent  soul ;  they  illustrate  how  the  spirit  of  reform 
wrestles  with  the  mind  of  an  intelligent  conservative ;  and  they 
afford  the  most  impressive  glimpses  of  nature,  literature,  revolu- 
tions, and  society,  as  they  appear  to  the  consciousness  of  a  man 
of  sentiment  and  philosophy,  thoroughly  exposed  to  their  agency, 
and  yet  capable  of  tranquil  observation.  Strongly  attached  to  the 
ideas  of  the  past, — religious,  political,  and  domestic, — on  account 
of  his  education  and  instincts,  he  was  borne  along  the  tide  of  those 
vital  changes  that  mark  the  last  century,  at  once  their  victim  and 
expositor, — now  inspired  and  now  persecuted  by  the  course  of 
events,  and  yet  always  preserving  intact  the  noble  individuality 
of  his  character. 

It  is  this  which  makes  us  the  willing  auditors  of  his  story,  and 
which,  in  spite  of  the  constant  egotism  and  occasional  extrava- 
gance of  his  autobiography,  wins  our  warmest  attention  and  fre- 
quent sympathy.  The  hardihood  with  which  he  accepts  the 
conditions  of  a  destiny  alternating  between  the  greatest  extremes 
of  misfortune  and  prosperity  ;  the  zeal  that  sustains  his  pilgrim- 
age in  the  trackless  forests  of  the  West  and  the  arid  desert  of  the 
East ;  over  seas  and  mountains,  through  unknown  crowds  of  his 
fellow-beings,  and  in  the  lonely  struggles  of  bereaved  affection, 
lend  a  warmth  to  every  page  of  his  narrative:  and  amid  the 
13 


146  THE    POET     OF    THE     OLD     REGOIE. 

varying  panorama  through  which  he  conducts  us,  not  for  a  mo- 
ment are  we  unconscious  of  the  Breton,  the  royalist,  and  the  poet 
of  the  old  rtgime.  It  is  this  combination  of  intense  personal 
identity  with  the  most  changeful  scenes  and  fortunes  that  gives 
its  peculiar  charm  to  the  life  of  Chateaubriand.  Other  travellers 
have  as  well  described  America  and  the  Holy  Land,  Napoleon 
and  the  Alhambra ;  we  have  pictures  of  the  French  Revolution 
more  elaborate  than  his ;  the  trials  and  the  triumphs  of  the  man 
of  letters  have  been  equally  well  chronicled,  and  the  war  of  opin- 
ion as  eloquently  reported;  but  these,  and  the  countless  other 
phases  of  Chateaubriand's  experience,  are  lighted  up  in  his  record 
by  the  fire  of  imagination,  outlined,  with  wonderful  distinctness, 
by  strong  feeling,  and  often  exquisitely  softened  by  the  atmos- 
phere of  sentiment.  Sketches  which  impress  us  with  the  intensely 
picturesque  effect  of  Dante  are  interspersed  with  speculative  gos- 
sip that  would  do  credit  to  old  Montaigne,  and  the  author  and 
lover  seem  to  change  parts  with  the  adventurer  and  the  states- 
man, as  we  find  the  experiences  of  each  detailed  with  equal  com- 
placency ;  yet  through  and  around  them  all  the  original  man  is 
apparent  —  his  melancholy  reveries,  his  poetic  ecstasies,  his  pro- 
found sensibility  to  nature,  his  love  of  glory,  his  devotion  to  the 
past,  his  vast  anticipations,  his  philosophic  observation,  keen  sense 
of  honor,  patriotism,  and  independent  yet  loving  spirit.  Nothing 
can  be  more  manly  than  his  enterprises,  his  endurance,  and  his 
industry,  and  nothing  more  childlike  than  his  account  of  them. 
We  are  often  inclined  to  forget  the  offensiveness  of  vanity,  as  we 
read,  in  the  fruits  of  its  unconscious  revelations ;  we  cannot  but 
perceive  thai  it  is  the  vividness  of  his  own  impressions  and  the 
importance  he  attaches  to  them  that  render  Chateaubriand  so 
effective  an  author;  and  intolerable  as  would  be  commonplace 
events  thus  unfolded,  those  of  universal  interest,  which  chiefly 
occupy  his  memoirs,  derive  from  this  cause  an  infinite  attraction. 
Far  more  real  appear  the  historic  scenes  reviewed,  when  thus 
linked  with  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  such  a  man,  and  the 
whole  process  of  his  authorship  is  ingeniously  displayed  by  so 
minute  a  history  of  his  life ;  indeed,  the  one  is  but  the  exponent 
of  the  other ;  his  books  are  the  genuine  offspring  of  his  experience, 


*  CHATEAUBRIAND.  147 

and  his  biography  not  the  life  of  one  man,  but  an  episodical 
history  of  the  times. 

The  most  careful  limning  in  this  remarkable  picture  is  that  of 
the  early  scenes.  Like  all  reminiscences,  those  of  his  childhood 
are  the  clearest,  and  the  original  elements  of  his  character  there 
defined  give  us  the  key  to  much  of  his  subsequent  history.  Fol- 
lowing him  from  St.  Malo  through  the  most  exciting  and  dramatic 
incidents,  and  amid  every  variety  of  climate  and  condition,  the 
image  of  the  isolated,  thoughtful,^  and  bafiled  youth  rises  continu- 
ally to  our  fancy,  and  explains  every  trait  of  the  man.  The  sea, 
the  turret,  the  woods,  the  paternal  austerity,  the  sisters'  love,  the 
mother's  piety,  the  suicidal  purpose,  the  ideal  attachment,  the 
rude  manners,  and  heart  trembling  with  sensibility, — all  this 
half-Crabbe-like  and  half-Shakspearian  picture  of  a  young  pro- 
vincial noble's  existence  in  Brittany  just  before  the  Revolution, 
haunts  the  memory  of  the  reader  with  its  sad  yet  truthful  linea- 
ments. It  also  gives  him  the  clue  to  Chateaubriand's  solemnity 
of  mind  and  loyalty  of  purpose.  In  the  solitude  and  secret  con- 
flicts of  his  boyhood  originated  the  strength  of  mind,  the  want  of 
external  adaptation,  and  the  poetical  habit  of  his  nature.  It  drew 
him  into  intimacy  with  the  outward  universe  and  his  own  soul, 
and  laid  the  foundation  of  the  contemplative  spirit  that  accompa- 
nied him  in  a  career  of  almost  incessant  activity ;  thus  inducing  a 
kind  of  Hamlet  or  Jacques  like  idiosyncrasy,  that,  when  deepened 
by  exile,  poverty,  and  baffled  sentiment,  gave  the  element  of 
pathos  which  distinguishes  the  most  effective  of  his  writings,  and 
is  the  key-note  of  his  memoirs. 

The  life  of  Chateaubriand,  thus  minutely  related,  and  made 
alive  and  dramatic  by  the  fidelity  and  emotion  with  which  it  is 
portrayed,  naturally  arranges  itself  into  scenes,  each  of  which 
illustrates  an  entire  act.  Thus,  from  the  chateau-life  of  his  child- 
hood, we  follow  him  to  college,  and  thence  to  Paris,  and  stand 
beside  him  at  the  window  where  his  heart  sickened  as  the  heads 
of  the  first  victims  of  the  Revolution  were  borne  along  on  pikes ; 
then  behold  him  seated  by  an  Indian  camp-fire,  within  hearing 
of  the  Falls  of  Niagara ;  a  few  months  elapse,  and  he  is  discovered 
sauntering  in  Kensington  Gardens,  meditating  a  work  of  genius, 
or  sharing  his  last  crust  with  a  brother  exile  in  a  London  garret ; 


148    THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

within  a  year  the  teacher  of  an  English  country  maiden  in  a  dis- 
tant parish ;  shortly  afterwards  the  secretary  of  Cardinal  Fesch, 
at  Rome ;  then  a  pilgrim  to  Jerusalem,  animated  by  the  old  cru- 
sader spirit ;  previously  a  soldier  in  the  French  army  besieging 
Thironville,  or  begging,  wounded,  at  a  fisherman's  hut;  again, 
in  retirement  at  the  ValUe  aux  Loups^  planting  or  writing; 
now  fraternizing  with  the  Parisian  litterateurs  of  a  past  genera- 
tion, now  braving  Napoleon  in  an  inaugural  discourse  before  the 
French  Institute,  and  now  feting  the  English  nobility  as  ambas- 
sador to  the  Court  of  St.  James ;  waging  political  battles  in  Paris, 
{issisting  at  the  Congress  of  Verona,  or  talking  regretfully  of  the 
past,  in  his  latter  days,  at  Madame  Recamier's  soirees.  The  life 
of  the  province,  the  university,  the  capital  —  the  voyageur,  the 
soldier,  the  author,  the  diplomat^  the  journalist,  the  exile,  the 
man  of  society,  the  man  of  state,  and  the  man  of  sentiment  — 
all  were  known  to  their  full  significance  in  his  adventurous  career. 
Stern  as  were  the  realities  of  his  lot,  a  vein  of  absolute  romance 
is  visible  throughout;  continually  an  episode  occurs  which  the 
writer  of  fiction  would  seize  with  avidity  and  elaborate  with  effect. 
Imagine  the  use  to  which  might  be  thus  adapted  such  incidents 
as  the  night  he  was  an  involuntary  prisoner  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  the  circumstances  of  his  emigration,  and  his  departure 
from  the  army  of  the  princes ;  his  encounter  with  a  French  danc- 
ing-master among  the  Iroquois,  his  tnariage  de  convenance^  and 
his  subsequent  love-adventure  in  England ;  his  brilliant  debut  as 
an  author,  his  shipwreck  on  returning  from  America,  his  vigil  at 
the  death-bed  of  Madame  Beaumont,  and  his  walk  out  of  Brus- 
sels while  listening  to  the  cannons  of  Waterloo !  The  breath  of 
every  clime,  the  discipline  of  all  vocations,  the  fiercest  controver- 
sies, and  the  most  abstract  reveries,  associations  of  the  highest 
kind,  and  events  of  the  most  universal  import ;  fame  and  obscu- 
rity, riches  and  poverty,  devoted  friendship  and  pitiable  isolation, 
contact  with  the  past  through  keen  sympathy  and  intense  im- 
agination, identity  with  the  present  through  indefatigable  activity ; 
made  up  the  existence  of  Chateaubriand,  which  was  the  successive 
realization  of  all  that  constitutes  the  life  of  the  mind,  of  the 
heart,  and  of  the  age  itself 

His  social  experience  was  quite  as  varied,  interesting,  and  his- 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  149 

torical,  as  the  events  of  which  he  was  a  witness  or  an  agent.  Of 
the  most  illustrious  of  his  acquaintance  and  intimate  of  his  friends 
he  has  left  excellent  portraits,  and  highly  characteristic  personal 
anecdotes.  Indeed,  the  manner  in  which  descriptions  of  nature 
and  adventurous  incident  are  blended,  in  his  memoirs,  with  those 
of  renowned  or  attractive  individuals,  make  them  resemble  a  long 
picture-gallery,  where  the  features  of  the  great  and  loved  beam 
from  the  wall  amid  beautiful  or  wild  landscapes,  domestic  groups, 
and  memorable  scenes  from  history.  Beginning  with  the  mem- 
bers of  his  own  family,  he  delineates  the  persons,  traits  of  charac- 
ter, and  manner,  of  Moreau  and  Mirabeau,  Laharpe  and  his  literary 
coterie.  Napoleon  and  Washington,  Canning,  Neckar,  Talleyrand, 
the  Duchess  de  Berri,  Charles  X.,  Lafayette,  the  French  emi- 
grants in  London,  the  aborigines  in  America,  his  Irish  hostess, 
with  her  passion  for  cats,  at  Hempstead,  Charlotte,  his  beloved 
English  pupil,  Madame  Bacciocchi,  Madame  de  Coulin,  Madame 
Dudevant, —  in  a  word,  all  his  political,  literary,  and  personal 
acquaintances.  The  distinct  outline  and  graceful  coloring  of* 
these  portraits  bespeak  the  artist ;  but  we  owe  the  eflfective  style 
in  which  they  are  conceived  to  the  relation  in  which  the  limner 
stood  to  the  ori<Tinals ;  the  heat-lio;htning  of  his  love  or  indigna- 
tion  often  gives  us  veritable  glimpses  more  impressive  than  a 
detailed  but  less  vivid  revelation  could  yield :  thus  his  two  inter- 
views with  B(^iiaparte  and  Washington,  the  manner  in  which 
Malesherbes  infected  him  with  that  enthusiasm  of  discovery  which 
sent  him  across  the  ocean  in  search  of  a  north-west  passage,  and 
Madame  de  Stael's  favorite  appellation,  ".My  dear  Francis," 
bring  each  individual  directly  before  us.  Byron  was  a  school- 
boy at  Harrow  when  Chateaubriand,  the  impoverished  exile,  caught 
sight  of  his  curly  head  as  he  wandered  by  the  seminary  in  his 
peregrinations  round  London;  and  De  Tocqueville,  the  able 
expositor  of  our  institutions,  he  knew  as  the  intelligent  child  of  a 
friend  at  whose  country-house  he  visited.  Compare  the  hunting 
party  of  Louis  XIV.,  which  he  attended  as  a  young  noble  of  the 
realm,  with  the  morning  call  upon  Washington  at  Philadelphia, 
and  we  have  the  last  glimmer  of  feudal  royalty  in  the  Old  World, 
with  the  first  dawn  of  republican  simplicity  in  the  New. 

The  business-like  manner  in  which  his  marriage  was  contracted 
13* 


150     THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

is  in  violent  contrast  with  the  romantic  earnestness  of  his  remi- 
niscences of  sentiment ;  and  his  veneration  for  the  ties  of  family 
and  rank  strangely  combined  with  a  zest  for  the  primitive  in 
human  nature.  The  instinct  of  glory  led  him  to  cherish  enthu- 
siasm for  greatness,  that  of  blood  for  races,  and  that  of  poetry  for 
the  original,  the  fresh,  and  the  intrepid.  Hence,  he  sympathized 
with  genius,  of  whatever  clime  —  with  exiled  princes  and  Indian 
chiefs ;  and,  while  wisdom,  tenderness,  and  valor,  so  attached  him 
that  he  dwells  almost  passionately  upon  those  eras  marked  by 
satisfactory  intercourse  with  others,  ever  and  anon  misfortune, 
pride,  and  a  sense  of  the  unattained,  draw  him  back  to  self  and 
the  glow  of  companionship,  and  love  fades  into  the  "  pale  cast  of 
thought."  He  survived  the  most  renowned  of  his  contemporaries 
and  the  most  endeared  of  his  friends.  Yet  few  men  have  been 
more  sincerely  loved  than  Chateaubriand,  and  few  have  mingled 
intimately  with  the  intellectual  leaders  of  any  epoch,  and  won  a 
greater  share  of  admiration  with  less  compromise  of  self-respect ; 
for  he  was  quite  as  remarkable  for  the  independence  of  his  char- 
acter as  for  the  strength  of  his  attachments. 

One  of  his  most  pleasing  traits  was  an  ardent  love  of  nature. 
To  gratify  this  on  a  broad  scale,  he  cheerfully  undertook  long 
and  hazardous  voyages,  and  delighted  to  expose  his  whole  being 
to  the  influence  of  earth,  sea,  and  firmament,  with  the  abandon 
of  the  poet  and  the  observant  spirit  of  the  philosopher.  His  sen- 
sibility in  this  regard  is  evident  in  the  force  and  beauty  of  his 
impressions.  His  mind  caught  and  reproduced  the  inspiration  of 
the  universe,  and  his  affections  linked  themselves  readily  with 
objects  hallowed  by  association.  Thus  he  speaks  of  Madame  de 
Beaumont's  cypress,  the  poplar  beside  his  window  in  the  rue  de 
Mirousel,  the  nightingales  at  the  restaurant  he  frequented,  and  the 
doves  whose  brooding  note  accompanied  his  studies,  with  a  degree 
of  feeling  rarely  coexistent  with  such  rude  experience  of  the  world. 
"  Je  me  sentais,"  he  says,  ''  vivre  et  vegeter  avec  la  nature  dans 
une  espece  de  pantheisme."  He  possessed  the  genuine  instinct 
of  travel,  and  the  migratory  impulse  of  birds.  It  is  remarkable 
that  a  disposition  like  this,  characteristic  of  the  naturalist  and 
poet,  should  be  so  developed  in  a  man  whose  name  is  identified 
with  a  long  political  career.     The  conventionalities  of  life,  how- 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  151 

ever,  and  ''  iracasseries  poUtlques^'''  were  ungenial  to  him.  He 
describes  the  two  sides  of  his  character  very  justly  when  he  says : 
"  Dans  I'existence  interieure  et  theorique,  je  suis  Thomme  de 
tous  les  songes ;  dans  I'existence  exterieure  et  pratique  Thommc 
des  realites.  Aventureux  et  ordonne,  passionne  et  methodique." 
He  was  indeed  a  poetical  cosmopolite  —  one  of  the  most  perfect 
examples  of  that  style  of  character  known  to  modern  times.  l\\ 
his  candid  self-revelations,  the  primeval  instincts  of  the  natural, 
and  the  complex  relations  of  the  civilized  human  being  are  suc- 
cessively brought  into  view ;  for  the  rapture  with  which  he  first 
greets  the  virgin  forest  of  the  New  World  is  soon  followed  by  an 
instant  resolution  to  join  the  army  of  his  king,  of  whose  flight  he 
was  informed  by  an  old  newspaper,  accidentally  picked  up  in  the 
cabin  of  a  backwoodsman;  and  if,  as  we  accompany  his  musing 
steps  along  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  it  seems  as  if  one  of  the 
heroes  of  Tasso's  epic  had  revived  in  the  person  of  a  French  pala- 
din, the  associations  of  a  later  and  less  chivalric  era  are  soon 
excited  by  the  pi'oces  verbal  that  condemned  liis  brother  to  the 
guillotine  —  printed  in  another  page  of  his  memoirs  as  a  sad  but 
authentic  link  in  his  family  history.  Listen  to  him  as  he  thinks 
aloud  in  the  Colosseum  at  moonlight,  and  you  would  infer  that 
he  was  a  bard  unallied  to  the  realities  of  the  present  —  a  dreamer 
whose  life  was  in  the  past ;  but  the  idea  is  dispelled,  almost  when 
conceived,  by  an  enthusiastic  description  that  succeeds  of  one  of 
those  Parisian  rhuiions  or  political  climaxes  in  which  he  took  so 
active  a  share. 

His  reminiscences  of  travel  have  a  sweetness  and  vitality,  like 
the  dexterously  preserved  flowers  of  an  herbal,  as  if  he  transmitted 
us  the  very  hues  and  sensations  of  the  regions  he  traversed  with 
so  keen  a  sympathy  —  the  marine  odor  and  crumbling  architecture 
of  Venice,  the  religious  atmosphere  of  Rome,  the  fresh  verdure 
and  exuberant  nature  of  the  western  hemisphere,  the  Petrarchan 
charms  of  southern  France,  the  Moorish  tints  of  Spain,  the  sub- 
stantial glory  of  England,  the  grandeur  of  mountains  relieved 
against  the  transparent  and  frosty  air  of  Switzerland,  the  extremes 
of  metropolitan  and  the  simple  graces  of  rural  life  —  these,  and 
all  other  sensitive  and  moral  experiences  of  the  traveller,  Cha- 
teaubriand, as  it  were,  imbibed  as  the  aliment  of  his  mind,  and 


152    THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

reproduced  as  memorials  of  his  life.  Like  Bjron,  he  became 
part  of  what  he  loved :  and  the  intensity  of  his  own  consciousness 
rendered  nature,  art,  and  society,  or  rather  their  traits  and  essen- 
tial spirit,  his  own.  In  the  aboriginal  wigwam  and  the  Arabian 
tent;  at  Memphis,  Carthage,  and  Jerusalem;  at  Golgotha  and 
Hempstead,  Granada  and  Rome ;  at  the  banquet  of  the  monarch, 
on  the  sick-bed  of  the  hospital,  in  the  prison  and  the  boudoir : 
when  dragged  triumphantly  in  his  carriage  by  the  applauding 
law-students  from  the  Bibliotheque  Genevieve  to  his  domicile, 
and  when  left,  propped  against  a  wall,  a  wounded  fugitive  in 
Guernsey  —  he  rose  above  the  material  and  the  temporary,  caught 
the  true  significance,-  bravely  met  the  exigency,  and  felt  the  ideal 
as  well  as  the  human  interest  of  the  scene  and  occasion. 

It  is  this  spirit  of  humanity,  this  poetical  tone  of  mind  —  the 
lofty  thought,  the  genuine  feeling,  in  short,  with  which  he  encoun- 
tered vicissitudes  and  contemplated  beauty,  and  not  the  mere  out- 
ward facts  of  his  career —  that  gives  a  permanent  and  ineffable 
charm  to  his  name.  A  halo  of  sentiment  encircles  his  brow,  not 
less  evident  when  bowed  in  adversity  than  Avhen  crowned  with 
honor.  He  demonstrates  the  truth  of  the  brave  old  poet's  creed, 
that  the  mind  of  man  is  his  true  kingdom.  His  self-respect  never 
falters  amid  the  most  discouraging  circumstances;  he  redeems 
misfortune  of  its  worst  anguish  by  the  strength  of  his  love  or  his 
religion.  The  scope  of  his  view  wins  him  from  the  limited  and 
the  personal ;  the  ardor  of  his  emotions  compensates  for  the  cold- 
ness of  fortune ;  he  is  ever  aware  of  the  vast  privilege  of  the 
rational  being  to  look  before  and  after ;  memories  either  glorious 
or  tender,  and  visions  of  faith,  shed  a  consoling  light  both  upon 
the  clouds  of  outward  sorrow  and  inward  melancholy;  always  a 
poet,  a  philosopher,  a  lover,  and  a  Christian,  Chateaubriand  the 
man  is  "  nobler  than  his  mood,"  however  sad,  baffled,  or  absorbed, 
it  may  be.  This  dignity,  this  sense  of  the  lofty,  the  comprehen- 
sive, and  the  beautiful,  seldom  deserts  him.  It  gives  tone,  ele- 
vation, spirit,  and  interest,  to  each  phase  of  his  life,  and  makes  its 
record  poetic  and  suggestive. 

The  political  career  of  Chateaubriand  has  been  the  subject  of 
that  diversity  of  opinion  which  seems  inevitably  to  attend  this 
portion  of  all  illustrious  lives.     A  rigid,  narrow  course  in  regard 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  153 

to  party,  it  would  be  irrational  to  expect  and  illiberal  to  desire 
in  a  man  of  such  broad  insight  and  generous  instincts.  His  im- 
aginative tendency  and  chivalric  tone  also  unfitted  him  to  be  either 
consistently  subservient  to  a  dogma  or  invariably  true  to  a  faction. 
The  nobility  and  sentiment  of  the  man,  however,  shed  their  light 
upon  the  politician.  The  character  and  spirit  of  his  statesmanship, 
though  at  times  too  ideal  in  theory,  were  individual,  and  often 
indicative  of  the  highest  moral  courage.  He  broke  away  from 
the  life  of  a  court,  in  his  youth,  with  the  intrepidity  of  the  most 
zealous' republican;  when  Mirabeau  clapped  him  fondly  on  the 
shoulder,  he  thought  his  hand  the  claw  of  Satan ;  and  while  he 
sought,  in  voluntary  exile,  immunity  from  the  horrors  of  the 
Revolution,  he  was  loyal  to  his  order  when  the  time  came  to  resist 
the  fanaticism  of  the  Jacobins  —  fought  in  its  ranks,  and  shared 
the  privations  of  emigration.  It  has  been  well  said  that  he  was 
"  a  monarchist  from  conviction,  a  Bourbonist  from  honor,  and  a 
republican  by  nature;"  "  Ic  republicaine  le  plus  devoue  k  la 
monarchic;  "  and,  incompatible  as  such  principles  may  seem  with 
each  other,  he  suffered  and  toiled  in  behalf  of  all  of  them.  He 
solicited  a  mission  of  discovery  at  the  age  of  twenty  to  escape 
from  the  ungcnial  social  and  political  atmosphere  of  France,  as 
well  as  to  gratify  an  adventurous  taste.  He  dedicated  his  great 
work  to  the  First  Consul,  and  accepted  from  him  the  embassy  to 
Rome,  with  a  sincere  fjiith  in  his  patriotism ;  and  bravely  dared 
his  anger,  by  instantly  resigning  another  office  the  moment  he 
heard  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien's  execution.  It  was  his  boast  that 
only  after  the  "success  of  his  ideas"  was  he  dismissed  from  the 
political  arena.  In  1830  he  stood  alone  among  the  peers,  and 
urged  them  to  protest  in  favor  of  the  banished  king ;  and  yet,  for 
the  sake  of  tranquillity,  acceded  to  the  request  of  his  opponents 
not  to  utter  his  intended  speech  against  the  new  government. 
He  also  declined  their  oifer  of  a  portfolio,  saying :  "I  only 
demand  liberty  of  conscience,  and  the  right  to  go  and  die  where- 
ever  I  can  find  freedom  and  repose."  Thus,  while  Chateaubriand 
failed  entirely  to  please  both  parties,  he  was  yet  eminently  true 
to  himself,  and  won  respect  from  each.  He  declared  of  Bona- 
parte :  "II  etait  anime  centre  moi  de  toute  sa  forfaiture,  coinme 
je  I'etais  centre  lui  de  toute  ma  loyaute."     The  episode  of  the 


164    THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

Breton  against  the  Corsican  is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  in 
the  history  of  both.  It  is  conceded  that  he  always  sacrificed 
personal  interest  to  his  idea  of  public  good ;  and  if  he  sent  a 
French  army  to  crush  liberty  in  Spain,  he  has.  theoretically  at 
least,  vindicated  his  motives.  His  constant  purpose  was  to  give 
the  people  a  system  of  graduated  monarchy,  in  which  he  firmly 
believed  their  true  welfare  to  consist,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to 
reassert  the  dignity  of  France.  He  was  the  invariable  and 
eloquent  advocate  of  the  liberty  of  the  press  and  of  religion. 

The  most  inveterate  advocates  of  reform,  if  endowed  with  just 
moral  perception  and  even  an  inkling  of  chivalric  sentiment,  can 
hardly  fail  to  respect  the  devotion  of  Chateaubriand  to  that  sys- 
tem which,  despite  its  inhuman  abuses,  lends  the  highest  dignity 
and  value  to  the  past.  He  clung  with  the  almost  absolute  loyalty 
of  the  middle  ages  to  those  persons  and  usages  amid  which  he 
was  born,  and  in  fidelity  to  which  he  thought  consisted  his 
honor.  He  sacrificed  wealth,  home,  safety, —  everything  but 
character, —  to  principles  outgrown  by  the  world,  but  endeared  to 
faith.  Some  one  has  said  that  independence  is  the  essential  test 
of  a  gentleman.  Chateaubriand,  thus  judged,  was  not  only  a  gen- 
tleman in  the  absolute  sense  of  the  term,  but  a  knight  according 
to  the  original  standard.  Loyalty  was  in  him  an  immutable 
instinct,  and  one  that  redeems  all  the  apparent  perversities  of 
opinion  traceable  in  his  career  as  a  man  of  the  state.  He  has 
been  said  to  be  the  legitimate  inheritor  of  that  eclectic  political 
feeling,  attached  at  once  to  both  past  and  future,  to  the  people 
and  the  throne,  of  which  Lafayette  was  the  exemplar.  From 
1814  to  1825  he  contended  for  the  past ;  from  then  until  1830  he 
was  the  advocate  of  progress,  and  thenceforward  strove  to  recon- 
cile the  interests  of  both.  Such  is  the  enlightened  view  taken  by 
the  liberal  critic.  During  the  Hundred  Days  he  was  one  of  the 
king's  counsellors  at  Ghent.  The  anti-regicide  doctrine  of  his 
first  speech  to  the  Institute  forever  disunited  him  from  Napoleon, 
and  he  retired  from  public  life  on  the  accession  of  Louis  Philippe. 
Deprived  of  a  lucrative  editorshipj  exiled,  his  property  forfeited, 
he  again  and  again  evidenced  his  superiority  to  corruption,  and 
sought  refuge  in  nature  and  letters  from  the  vicissitudes  of  public 
life.      Ambassador   at  Berlin,    Rome,   and   London, —  minister, 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  155 

soldier,  and  journalist, —  in  the  congress  of  nations,  the  cabinet, 
and  the  popular  assembly, —  however  visionary,  impulsive,  and  per- 
tinacious, Chateaubriand  nobly  vindicated  his  title  to  the  name  of 
patriot.  A  citizen  of  the  v/orld  by  virtue  of  enlarged  sympathies 
and  intelligence,  he  was  always  a  Frenchman  at  heart,  and  one  of 
that  school,  now  almost  wholly  traditional,  about  which  lingers  the 
venerable  charm  of  a  loyal,  brave,  courteous,  and  gallant  race  — 
touched,  however,  in  him,  to  finer  issues  by  an  innate  love  of  the 
grand,  a  natural  ideality  and  depth  of  feeling,  partly  inherited, 
and  somewhat  owing  to  his  Breton  origin  and  remarkable  experi- 
ence. In  a  word,  he  was  both  a  poet  and  a  true  scion  of  the  old 
French  aristocracy,  which  seems  to  have  expired  when  the  hearse 
containing  his  remains,  followed  by  a  single  carriage,  in  which 
were  his  executor  and  valet,  reached  the  shores  of  Brittany  one 
summer  day  in  1849,  and  a  veiled  woman  in  deep  mourning  drew 
near  and  laid  a  bunch  of  flowers  on  the  coffin,  saying,  tearfully, 
"  This  is  all  I  have  to  offer." 

The  authorship,  like  the  existence,  of  Chateaubriand,  was  chiv- 
alric,  adventurous,  and  effective,  usually  originating  in  some  want 
or  impulse  of  the  time,  derived  from  his  own  experience  or  aimed 
at  a  positive  and  practical  result ;  the  man  of  action  and  of  the 
age,  the  improvisator  of  the  occasion,  marks  his  labors  in  the  field 
of  letters.  Thus,  his  first  essay  as  a  writer  on  a  large  scale  was 
the  Treatise  on  Revolutions,  written  in  exile  and  for  bread,  and 
serving  as  a  kind  of  initiative  discipline  to  works  of  more  instant 
and  universal  effect ;  yet  even  this,  the  most  abstract  and  least 
spontaneous  of  his  works,  chiefly  historical  in  its  plan,  being 
written  at  the  epoch  of  the  French  Revolution,  in  which  the 
author  and  his  family  so  deeply  suffered,  had  a  vital  and  imme- 
diate significance.  The  subject  thus  chosen  indicates  his  dominant 
taste  for  philosophy,  history,  and  politics ;  in  its  execution,  also, 
is  evident  his  love  of  bringing  ancient  parallels  to  bear  on  con- 
temporary events ;  the  broad  survey  of  governments  it  includes 
shows  his  comprehensive  scope  of  mind,  the  instinctive  grandeur 
of  his  conception ;  while  some  of  the  portraits  and  scenes  betray 
that  felicity  of  description  which  characterized  his  subsequent 
writings.  However  respectable  as  a  literary  undertaking,  the 
Essais  sur  les  Revolutions  was  rather  a  prophetic  than  realized 


156     THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

test  of  his  mission  as  a  writer.  The  Genie  du  Christianisme\ 
is  one  of  those  works  that,  by  meeting  the  conscious  needs  of 
an  age  and  people,  lift  the  author  at  once  to  the  rank  of  public  1 
benefactor.  When  Europe  recoiled  from  the  barren  and  bitter 
fruits  of  anarchy  and  atheism,  and  humanity  became  conscious 
of  her  desolation,  '•  without  God  in  the  world,"  this  reassertion 
of  the  religious  sentiment,  of  the  incalculable  benefits  Chris- 
tianity had  bestowed  upon  the  world,  of  its  infinite  superiority  to 
all  previous  systems,  of  its  accordance  with  nature  and  the  heart 
of  man,  of  its  sacred  relation  to  domestic  life  and  to  the  human 
passions,  seemed  an  echo  of  the  latent  hopes  and  recollections  of 
every  bereaved  and  aspiring  soul  amid  the  wrecks  of  social  and 
civil  life.  With  singular  eloquence,  Chateaubriand  resummoned 
the  saints,  the  angels,  the  myths,  the  ceremonial,  and  the  sanc- 
tions of  the  Christian  religion,  from  the  eclipse  they  had  under- 
gone. He  compared,  as  only  a  scholar,  a  philosopher,  a  poet,  can 
do,  Hell  with  Tartarus,  Heaven  with  Elysium ;  Homer,  Yirgil, 
and  Theocritus,  with  Dante,  Milton,  and  Tasso ;  the  Sibyls  and 
the  Evangelists,  the  Bible  and  the  Iliad.  He  recounted  the  tri- 
umphs of  Christian  art,  and  described  how  the  New  Testament 
changed  the  genius  of  the  painter:  ''  Sans  lui,  rien  oter  de  sa 
sublimite,  il  lui  donne  plus  de  tendresse."  He  revealed  its  archi- 
tectural signs  —  the  dome  and  spire  :  "  Les  yeux  du  voyageur 
viennent  d'abord  s'attacher  sur  cette  fleche  religieuse  dont  Taspect 
reveilee  une  foule  de  sentiments  et  de  souvenirs ;  c'est  la  pyra- 
mide  funebre  autour  de  la  quelle  dorment  les  aieux ;  c'est  la 
monument  de  joie  ou  I'airain  sacre  annonce  le  vie  du  fidele  ;  c'est 
la  que  Tepoux  s'unisant ;  c'est  la  que  les  chretiens  se  prosterent 
au  pied  des  autels,  le  foible  pour  prier  le  Dieu  deforce,  le  coupable 
pour  implorer  le  Dieu  de  misericorde,  I'innocent  pour  chanter  le 
Dieu  de  bonte."  He  pictures  to  the  imagination  the  tangible 
evidences  of  his  holy  faith,  Raphael's  Madonnas  and  the  Hotel 
Dieu,  the  Festival,  the  Cemetery,  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  the 
Knight,  the  Missionary,  the  eloquence  of  Massillon,  Bossuet, 
Pascal,  and  Fenelon.  Thus,  gathering  up  the  trophies  and 
opening  the  vistas  of  Christianity  once  more  before  the  despair- 
ing eyes  of  multitudes,  Chateaubriand  was  hailed  by  tearful 
praises.     ''  Imagine,"  says  one  of  his  critics,   '•  a  vase  of  myrrh 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  157 

overturned  on  the  steps  of  a  blood-stained  altar."  To  us  and 
to-daj  the  significance  of  his  work  is  greatlj  modified  and  abated. 
In  the  light  of  a  more  advanced  civilization,  and  a  race  of  no  less 
eloquent  and  deeper  expositors,  we  look  upon  it,  with  Lamartine, 
rather  as  a  reliquary  than  as  a  creative  work.  It  is  a  panoramic 
view  of  the  history  of  Christianity  —  a  poem  celebrating  its 
dogmas  and  monuments,  and  "superstition's  rod  "  seems  to  hang 
over  the  inspired  defender  of  the  Church.  None  the  less  beau- 
tiful, however,  are  many  of  its  appeals  to  the  past  and  to  the 
human  heart  —  none  the  less  remarkable  its  success.  He  tells  us 
it  was  undertaken  not  only  from  devout,  but  filial  sentiment ;  his 
conversion  having  been  induced  by  his  mother's  death,  and  grief 
for  his  scepticism.  Over  the  book,  therefore,  hangs  an  atmos- 
phere of  poetical  and  adventurous  interest,  which  lends  it  perma- 
nent attniction. 

The  Etudes  Historiques  were  commenced  and  finished,  as  the 
author  says,  with  a  restoration  ;  and  he  adds  :  "  Le  plus  long  et 
le  dernier  travail  de  ma  vie,  celui  qui  m'a  coute  le  plus  de  recher- 
ches,  de  soins  et  d'annees,  celui  ou  j'ai  peut-etre  remue  le  plus 
d'idees  et  de  faits,  paroit  lorsqu'il  ne  pent  trouvor  de  lecteurs." 
This  want  of  comparative  success  is  easily  accounted  for  by  the 
absence  of  personal  motive  and  interest  in  this  elaborate,  instruct- 
ive, sometimes  eloquent  and  characteristic  work.  The  Itin- 
iraire^  Voya/je  en  Ameriqtte,  and,  in  fact,  all  his  books  of  travel, 
while  they  contain  charming  passages,  are  now  more  interesting 
as  links  in  his  career  than  for  their  facts  and  descriptions  —  there 
having  been  no  department  of  recent  literature  more  affluent  in 
graces  of  style  and  attraction  of  details  than  that  of  voyages  and 
travels.  In  the  East  and  our  own  country,  he  is,  therefore,  in  a 
great  measure,  superseded  by  later  and  standard  writers.  His 
literary  and  political  miscellanies  are  often  rich  in  thought  and 
imagery.  The  opinions  they  embrace  are,  however,  frequently 
inconsistent ;  but  there  is  a  harmony  of  tone,  a  vigor  of  argu- 
ment, a  keen  critical  appreciation,  and  a  gift  of  expression,  which 
indicate  genius,  amid  much  that  is  desultory,  extravagant,  and 
incomplete.  The  prejudices  of  the  Roman  Catholic,  and  the 
ignorance  of  the  foreigner,  sometimes  rudely  clash  with  the  beau- 
ful  style  of  the  rhetorician,  and  the  lofty  sentiment  of  the  bard. 
14 


158     THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

Amid  the  voluminous  disquisition,  the  journals  of  travel,  and  the 
polemics  of  Chateaubriand,  three  gems  of  narrative  —  episodes 
and  illustrations,  in  a  truly  poetic  vein,  of  his  arguments  and 
descriptions  —  have  served  to  wing  his  name  abroad,  and  cause  it 
to  nestle  in  many  hearts.  These  are  Atala^  Re?ie,  and  Les  Aven- 
tiires  du  Dernier  Ahencerrage;  romantic  in  conception  and  most 
gracefully  executed  —  prose  poems,  in  short,  and  the  flowers  of 
his  mind,  terse,  beautiful,  and  embalmed  in  sentiment,  although 
to  the  unnatural  passion  described  in  the  former  work  some  crit- 
ics attribute  the  exceptionable  moral  taste  in  modern  French 
romance.  In  contrast  with  these  is  the  most  vigorous  and  the 
least  charitable  of  his  political  essays,  "  Bonaparte  and  the 
Bourbons,"  which  Lamartine  well  describes  as  ''the  bitter 
speech  of  the  public  executioner  of  humanity  and  liberty,  writ- 
ten by  the  hand  of  the  Furies  against  the  great  culprit  of  the 
age." 

The  passionate  invective  of  this  famous  pamphlet  would  strike 
the  reader  difierently  could  he  imagine  it  addressed  to  the  French 
people  before  the  star  of  the  conqueror  began  to  wane ;  but  it  is 
associated  with  the  image  of  Napoleon,  not  in  the  hour  of  his 
triumph,  but  as  he  sits  at  Fontainebleau,  brooding  in  dishevelled 
garments,  and  with  despair  on  his  brow,  over  the  defection  of  his 
household  and  the  pitiless  demands  of  the  allies. 

Wide,  indeed,  is  the  range  of  Chateaubriand's  literary  talent 
and  achievement,  and  versatile  as  his  fortunes :  in  politics  singu- 
larly bold,  almost  ferocious ;  in  history  suggestive  and  ingenious ; 
and  in  personal  revelations  often  pathetic,  picturesque,  and  some- 
times vain,  yet  ever  graphic.  He  knew  the  fever  of  mind  inci- 
dent to  poetical  conception — the  long,  patient  vigil  of  the  scholar, 
and  the  serene,  contemplative  mood  of  the  philosopher.  He  expe- 
rienced climaxes  both  of  emotion  and  opinion,  and  vented  both  on 
paper.  And  with  all  the  assiduity,  the  invention,  and  the  glow, 
of  these  compositions,  he  had  also  the  melo-dramatic,  the  exag- 
gerated, and  the  artificial  taste  of  a  Frenchman.  He  loved  eifect, 
—  he  was  carried  away  by  the  desire  of  glory,  tenacious  of  indi- 
viduality, and  happy  in  a  kind  of  wayward  yet  noble  self-asser- 
tion. Such  a  writer  is  naturally  open  to  critical  assault,  and  fitted 
to  excite  admiration  in  equal  degrees.     Accordingly,  his  incon- 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  159 

gruities  as  a  champion  of  religion  have  been  often  designated  by 
writers  of  more  chastened  taste ;  the  hardihood  and  inconsistencies 
of  his  partisan  articles  justly  condemned,  and  the  effects  of  a  too 
sensitive  mind  easily  detected.  As  an  instance  of  his  want  of 
spontaneous  expression,  and  the  habitude  of  well-considered  lan- 
guage, Lamartine  relates,  in  his  History  of  the  Restoration,  that 
when  sent  as  a  deputy  to  the  Emperor  Alexander  to  plead  the 
Bourbon  cause,  Chateaubriand  was  silent  because  he  could  not, 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  as  he  afterwards  declared,  find  lan- 
guage appropriate  to  the  majesty  of  the  occasion.  He  required 
time  to  utter  himself  in  writing ;  and  therefore,  on  this  memorable 
occasion,  allowed  a  younger  and  far  less  gifted  member  of  the 
deputation  to  speak  for  him. 

His  style,  too,  has  been  censured  for  its  grandiose  tendency, 
and  his  authorship  made  the  object  of  extreme  laudation  and  scorn. 
"What  almost  invariably  claims  our  admiration,  however,  is  the 
gallant  and  the  comprehensive,  the  poetical  and  the  sympathetic 
spirit  in  which  he  has  written.  Somewhat  of  the  extravagance 
of  his  nation  is  indeed  conspicuous ;  but  we  are  impelled  to  view 
it  leniently  on  account  of  the  grace  and  bravery  with  which  it  is 
usually  combined.  He  opened  glorious  vistas,  and  let  fall  seeds 
of  eternal  truth.  The  sound  of  the  sea,  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
the  roaring  of  the  wind  amid  the  pines,  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  the 
associations  of  home  and  country,  the  solemnity  of  ruins,  the 
griefs  of  humanity,  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  the  sanctions  of  reli- 
gion, tenderness,  heroism,  reverence,  faith,  —  all,  in  short,  that 
hallows  and  sublimates  this  brief  existence,  and  sheds  a  mystic 
glory  over  the  path  of  empires,  the  scene  of  nature,  and  the  lot 
of  man,  found  eloquent  recognition  from  his  pen ;  and  for  such 
ministrations  we  give  him  love  and  honor,  without  losing  sight  of 
the  vagueness,  the  prejudice,  the  artificiality,  and  the  exaggeration, 
which  occasionally  mar  such  exuberant  development.  In  him  the 
conscious  and  personal  sometimes  dwarfs  the  essentially  noble ; 
but  a  kind  of  grandeur  of  feeling  and  thought  often  lifts  him 
above  the  temporary.  He  cherished  faith  in  his  race:  "Si 
I'homme,"  he  says,  "est  ingrat,  I'humanite  est  reconnaissante." 
"The  masters  of  thought,"  he  declares,  "open  horizons,  invent 
words,  have  heirs  and  lineages."    For  a  Gallic  nature,  his  appre- 


160     THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

ciation  of  Milton,  Dante,  Tasso  —  of  the  serious  phase  of  great- 
ness— was  remarkable,  although  some  of  his  criticisms  on  English 
literature  excite  a  smile.  In  his  influence  as  a  man  of  letters,  for 
half  a  century  he  was  the  successful  antagonist  of  Voltaire  and 
his  school.  Often  he  gave  impetus  and  embodiment  to  public 
opinion ;  and  if  his  portraits  are  sometimes  fanciful  and  his  judg- 
ments poetic,  his  literary  achievements,  on  the  whole,  had  a  rare 
character  of  adventure  and  beauty ;  and  the  alternations  from 
severe  reasoning  to  imaginative  glow  are  such  as  indicate  a  mar- 
vellous combination  of  intellectual  power.  For  the  complete 
revised  edition  of  his  works  he  received  five  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs;  and  perhaps  no  modern  author  boasts  more 
remarkable  trophies  —  such  a  blending  of  tinsel  and  truth  —  of 
the  incongruous  but  efficient  politician  with  the  ardent,  sensitive, 
heroic  poet  —  incomplete  and  desultory  in  certain  respects,  fresh, 
courageous,  true,  eloquent,  and  original,  in  others ;  imprudent,  but 
loyal;  "worth  an  army  to  the  Bourbons,"  yet  enamored  of 
American  solitudes  ;  as  a  journalist,  said  to  unite  "la  hauteur  de 
Bossuct  et  la  profondeur  de  Montesquieu ; "  advising  literary 
aspirants  of  his  race  and  tongue  not  to  try  verse,  and,  if  they  have 
the  poetical  instinct,  to  eschew  politics ;  carrying  the  war  into 
Napoleon's  retreating  dominion,  and,  at  the  same  time,  hailed 
as  the  dove  of  the  Deluge,  whose  mission  it  was  "to  renew 
the  faith  of  the  heart,  and  infuse  the  impoverished  veins  of  the 
social  body  with  generous  sentiment."  Enough  of  fame  and  of 
weakness  we  may,  indeed,  find  in  all  this  to  crown  a  writer  with 
admiration  and  pity.  If  his  genius  was  somewhat  too  studied, 
it  lent  dignity  to  his  times  and  country ;  if  his  youth  was 
shackled  by  the  pedantic  coterie  that  ruled  French  letters,  his 
maturity  redeemed,  by  the  independent  advocacy  of  truth  and 
nature,  the  casual  vassalage;  if  he  once  over-estimated  Ossian, 
he  never  lost  sight  of  the  need  of  clear  expression,  and  repu- 
diated, when  engaged  on  practical  subjects,  the  vague  conceptions 
he  admired. 

Chateaubriand's  genius  thus  responded  to  national  subjects,  and 
was  modified  by  national  imperfections — in  his  poetical  sentiment 
reminding  us  of  St.  Pierre,  Rousseau,  and  Lamartine;  while 
many  passages  in  the  Martyrs,  Natchez,  the  magazines,  letters, 


\ 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  161 

romances,  in  the  answers  to  his  critics,  and  historical  essays,  chal- 
lenge recognition  for  the  philosopher;  and  yet,  ever  and  anon, 
the  manner  in  which  he  dwells  upon  his  achievements,  and  the 
consideration  he  demands  both  from  the  reader  and  governments 
for  his  persecutions  and  his  fame,  cause  us  somewhat  painfully  to 
realize  the  weakness  of  the  man.  In  this  anti-Saxon  and  thor- 
oughly Gallic  egotism,  sensitiveness,  vanity,  or  by  whatever  name 
we  designate  a  quality  so  obvious  and  characteristic,  Chateau- 
briand was  a  genuine  Frenchman.  He  describes  this  trait  of 
his  nation  justly  when  accounting  for  fhe  fruitfulness  of  its 
literature  in  memoirs  and  the  comparative  dearth  of  history : 
—  "Le  Francois  a  ete  tons  les  temps,  meme  lorsqu'il  etoit  bar- 
bare,  vain,  leger  et  sociable.  II  reflechit  peu  sur  I'ensemble 
des  objets ;  mais  il  observe  curicuscmcnt  les  details,  et  son  coup 
d'oeil  est  prompt,  siir  et  delie  ;  il  faut  toujours  qu'il  soit  en 
scene.  II  aime  a  dire;  j'etois  la,  le  roi  me  dit;  J'appu  du 
prince,"  etc. 

From  the  casual  frailties,  however,  and  from  the  intrigues  of 
the  saloii^  the  warfare  of  party,  and  the  reverses  of  fortune — from 
all  that  is  unworthy  and  mutable  in  this  remarkable  life,  what  is 
pure  and  effective  in  genius  seems  to  rise  and  separate  itself  to 
the  imagination,  and  we  behold  the  true  spirit  of  the  man  em- 
bodied and  embalmed  in  the  disinterested  results  of  his  thought 
and  the  spontaneous  utterance  of  his  sentiment ;  and  therefore  it 
is  as  a  poet  of  the  old  regime  that  we  finally  regard  Chateau- 
briand. 

It  has  been  acutely  said  that  external  life  is  an  appendix  to  the 
heart ;  and  the  Memoirs  (T outre  Tombe  signally  evidence  the 
truth.  Dated,  as  they  are,  at  long  intervals  of  time,  and  in  many 
different  places,  the  immediate  circumstances  under  which  they 
are  written  are  often  brought  into  view  simultaneously  with  a 
vivid  retrospect,  to  which  they  form  a  singular  contrast;  and  this 
gives  an  air  of  reality  to  the  whole,  such  as  is  afforded  by  oral 
communication ;  we  frequently  seem  to  hsten  instead  of  reading. 
Chateaubriand  first  thought  of  composing  the  work  where  Gibbon 
conceived  the  idea  of  his  great  enterprise,  in  that  haunt  of  eternal 
memories  —  Rome.  It  was  commenced  in  his  rural  seclusion  at 
La  Vallee  aux  Loups,  near  Aulnay,  in  the  autumn  of  1811,  and 


162     THE  POET  OF  THE  OLD  REGIME. 

finally  revised  at  Paris,  in  1841.  The  intermediate  period  is 
strictly  chronicled,  and  interspersed  with  details  of  the  antecedent 
and  the  passing  moment,  together  -with  countless  portraits,  criti- 
cisms, and  scenes,  both  analytical  and  descriptive ;  but  the  deep 
vein  of  sentiment,  which  prompts  the  author's  movements  and 
arrays  his  experience  and  thoughts,  continually  reminds  us  that 
the  life  depicted  is  but  the  appendix  to  the  heart  that  inspires. 
Thus  his  intimacy  with  Malesherbes,  whose  granddaughter  his 
elder  brother  married,  fostered  that  passion  for  exploration  which 
made  him  a  traveller ;  his  repugnance  to  priestly  shackles  induced 
him  to  enroll  his  name  in  the  regiment  of  Navarre ;  his  adherence 
to  his  party  made  him  a  translator  and  master  of  languages  in 
England ;  his  fraternal  love  redeemed  his  boyhood  from  misan- 
thropic despair,  and  his  religious  and  poetic  sentiment  impelled 
him  to  the  East.  This  oriental  tendency  —  if  wc  may  so  call  it 
—  is  evident,  as  he  suggests,  in  the  whole  race  of  modern  genius, 
and  seems  to  spring  both  from  delicate  organization,  giving  a 
peculiar  charm  to  the  atmosphere  and  life  of  that  region,  and  from 
historical  associations  that  win  the  imagination  and  the  sympa- 
thies —  romantically  evident  in  Byron,  and  religiously  in  Cha- 
teaubriand and  Lamartine.  The  former,  despite  the  battles, 
conclaves,  and  literary  affairs,  that  make  up  the  substance  of  his 
memoirs,  never  loses  his  identity  with  sentiment,  whether  luxuri- 
ating in  the  scenery  of  the  Grand  Charteuse,  invoking  the  departed 
at  Ilolyrood  or  Venice,  setting  out  the  trees  of  every  land  he  had 
visited  on  his  domain,  breaking  away  from  his  English  love  with 
the  exclamation,  "  Tie  52«5  wart .' "  or  recording  his  last  inter- 
view with  his.  sister  Lucille  and  her  obscure  burial ;  claiming 
his  chair  at  Corinne's  fireside,  or  discovering  auguries  in  the 
fierce  tempest  that  broke  over  St.  Malo  the  night  he  was  born. 
The  most  utilitarian  reader  must  confess,  as  he  connects  the 
practical  efficiency  and  noble  traits  of  Chateaubriand  with  his 
generous  emotions,  that  sentiment  is  a  grand  conservative  and 
productive  element  in  human  life,  and  to  its  inciting  and  elevated 
influence  justly  ascribe  the  usefulness,  the  renown,  and  the  sin- 
gular interest,  that  attaches  to  the  man  he  may  have  seen  a  few 
years  since  threading  the  Boulevards  of  Paris  with  "irreproach- 
able cravat   and   ebony  cane;"    recognizing  in  his   gentle   yet 


CHATEAUBRIAND.  163 

vigorous  expression,  in  his  broad  forehead  and  projecting  tem- 
ples, the  thick  white  hair  around  his  bald  crown,  the  inclination 
of  the  head,  the  long  face  and  observant  yet  noble  air,  outward 
indications  of  his  varied  experience,  rare  gifts,  and  unique  char- 
acter. 


THE   REVIEWER 

FRANCIS  JEFFREY. 


One  cool  morning,  during  our  last  war  with  England,  a  group 
of  Knickerbocker  savans  might  have  been  seen  on  the  Battery, 
eagerly  watching  the  approach  of  a  vessel.  On  her  deck,  at  the 
same  moment,  the  inspection  of  a  passenger's  baggage  was  going 
on,  under,  the  eye  of  a  vigilant  officer  of  the  customs,  whose 
herculean  proportions  and  deliberate  air  were  in  amusing  contrast 
with  the  brisk  movements  and  diminutive  figure  of  the  indignant 
owner  of  the  trunks  and  boxes  thus  overhauled  and  scrutinized. 
At  last,  swelling  with  indignation,  the  little  man  turned  to  his 
burly  tormentor,  with  the  question  —  k  la  Caesar — "Sir!  do 
you  know  who  I  am  ?  " 

"Yes,''  replied  the  officer,  "you  are  the  editor  of  a  Scotch 
magazine ; "  and  immediately  continued  his  examination,  as  if 
determined  to  prove  the  querist  a  smuggler. 

Quite  diflferent  were  the  manners  of  the  expectant  group  at  the 
pier,  when  the  irritated  gentleman  stepped  upon  shore.  Their 
deferential  greeting  and  urgent  hospitality  soon  put  him  in  better 
humor,  without,  however,  diminishing  the  self-complacency  of  his 
bearing.  The  scene  perfectly  illustrated  a  singular  characteristic 
of  the  times  —  the  ascendency  gained  over  public  opinion  by  the 
press,  and  the  newly- established  power  of  criticism. 

The  gentleman,  whose  arrival  in  the  United  States  was  thus 
signalized,  was  Francis  Jeffrey,  who,  having  contracted  an  engage- 
ment of  marriage  with  an  American  lady  whom  he  met  abroad, 


FRANCIS     JEFFREY.  165 

had  come  over,  under  the  protection  of  a  cartel  specially  granted 
for  the  purpose,  in  a  governmcmt  ship,  to  marry  the  woman  of  his 
choice.  The  practical  independence  and  good  sense  of  the  scion 
of  democracy  who  examined  his  baggage  rebelled  at  a  certain 
vague  idea  he  had  somewhere  acquired,  that  the  wise  men  of 
his  native  city  pinned  their  faith  upon  a  foreign  periodical ;  and, 
sharing  in  the  animosity  then  cherished  against  Great  Britain,  he 
was  fiir  from  pleased  at  the  demonstration  of  respect  to  the  Scotch 
editor  manifested  in  the  vessel  that  brought  and  the  reception 
that  awaited  him  ;  while  the  learned  coterie,  who  eagerly  seized 
upon  the  stranger,  beheld  in  him  the  incarnation  of  mental  vigor, 
wit,  knowledge,  and  pleasantry,  which,  under  the  name  of  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  had  been  their  chief  intellectual  repast  for 
several  preceding  years.  There  was  nature  and  reason  on  both 
sides  ;  a  resistance  to  foreign  domination,  even  in  matters  of 
taste  and  speculation,  on  the  one  hand,  —  for  the  custom-house 
oflficer  had  published  a  book  or  two  in  his  day,  —  and  a  hearty 
recognition  of  mental  obligation  on  the  other.  Looking  upon  the 
man  through  the  expanding  vista  of  succeeding  triumphs  in  peri- 
odical criticism  and  enlarged  literary  culture,  we  can  readily  take 
that  medium  ground  between  the  extremes  of  independence  and 
admiration,  where  the  truth  doubtless  lies. 

At  the  period  referred  to,  however,  Jeffrey's  position  was  a 
remarkable  social  phenomenon.  The  son  of  a  Glasgow  trades- 
man or  mechanic,  and  educated  for  the  bar,  by  means  of  a 
certain  degree  of  taste,  a  winning  style,  polished  irony,  and 
clever  argumentative  ability,  he  vaulted  to  the  throne  of  crit- 
icism —  became  a  literary  autocrat,  the  Napoleon  of  the  world  of 
letters ;  not  without  some  claim  to  the  distinction,  indeed,  but 
yet  owing  it  chiefly  to  ingenuity,  perseverance,  and  audacity. 
The  reason  of  this  success  is  obvious.  He  was  the  pioneer 
reviewer;  the  first  who  discovered  the  entire  significance  of  the 
cabalistic  "  ?/;e."  With  an  acute,  though  not  comprehensive, 
power  of  reflection,  he  united  remarkable  tact ;  and,  by  virtue 
of  these  two  qualities,  naturally  succeeded  in  pleasing  that  large 
class  of  readers  who  are  neither  wholly  superficial  nor  profound, 
but  a  little  of  both.  He  had  a  metaphysical  turn,  without  rising 
to  the  title  of  a  moral  philosopher ;   and  could  speculate  upon 


^' 


166  THE     REVI      WER. 

abstract  questions  with  an  ease  and  agreeableness  that  rendered 
them  entertaining.  Accordingly,  he  made  abstruse  subjects 
familiar,  and  delighted  many,  who  had  never  been  conscious  of 
great  insight,  with  the  idea  that  thej  could  appreciate  the  mys- 
teries of  knowledge.  There  is  more,  however,  that  is  plausible 
and  attractive,  than  original  or  suggestive,  in  the  metaphysical 
dissertations  of  Jeffrey.  The  talent  of  the  writer,  rather  than 
the  novelty  or  consistency  of  his  theories,  is  to  be  admired.  The 
r^  article,  for  instance,  on  Alison's  Taste,  is  a  charming  specimen  of 
this  kind  of  writing ;  but  it  wants  definite  and  satisfactory  impres- 
sions. It  gratifies  a  taste  in  composition  rather  than  a  passion  for 
truth,  which  should  guide  and  inspire  such  investigations. 
'\  Qualities  attractive  in  themselves  become  obnoxious  when 
/incongruously  united  with  others  of  an  opposite  jnoral  nature. 
To  an  honest  and  loving  spirit  the  coexistence  of~^eauty  and 
falsehood  is  too  painful  for  contemplation ;  and  the  most  fasci- 
nating manners  revolt  when  their  hypocrisy  is  once  discovered. 
Sterne  prays  for  a  reader  who  will  surrender  the  reins  of  imag- 
ination to  the  author's  hands.  Now,  it  is  a  law  of  human  nature 
that  such  a  tribute  is  only  spontaneously  yielded  to  geniality ; 
and  the  dijfficulty  of  a  hearty  concession,  even  of  opinion,  to  Lord 
Jefirey,  is,  that  he  is  more  peremptory  and  acute  than  sympa- 
thetic and  respectful.  An  independent,  and,  especially,  a  rever- 
ent mind,  naturally  distrusts  the  dogmatical  tone  and  plausible 
'  reasoning  of  his  criticisms.  He  discusses  a  subject  with  charm- 
ing vivacity,  exhibits  an  ingenuity  that  is  admirable,  and  displays 
a  knowledge  of  outward  relations  and  historical  facts  that  com- 
mands respect ;  and,  if  the  theme  is  purely  objective,  unassociated 
with  sentiment  of  any  description,  and  appealing  to  mere  curios- 
ity, there  are  few  writers  who  are  more  delightful.  '  But,  whetr.^ 
he  approaches  a  subject  dear  to  afiection,  or  consecrated  by  hal- 
lowed memories,  we  often  shrink  as  from  the  touch  of  a  coarse  1 
and  mechanical  operator.  He  then  seems  to  speak  without^ 
authority ;  we  instinctively  question  his  right  to  teach,  and  feel 
that  he  is  a  ruthless  intruder  into  sacred  places. 

The  truth  is,  that  Lord  Jefirey,  by  nature,  education,  and  hab- 
its of  thought,  was  a  special  pleader.  He  used  words  and  ideas 
for  an  immediate  purpose  ;  his  object,  when  most  in  earnest,  is  to 


#^ 


FRANCIS     JEFFREY.  167 

gain  a  point ;  his  liberality  and  depth  of  feeling  were  in  reverse 
proportion  to  his  cleverness  and  information.  His  great  moral 
defect  was  Avant  of  modesty.  He  does  not  appear  to  have  known, 
by  exj^ience,  the  feeling  of  self-distrust,  but  thought  himself 
quite  competent  to  dictate  to  the  world,  not  only  on  legal,  but  on 
literary  and  social  topics.  This  reliance  upon  his  own  reason 
gives  force  and  point  to  those  disquisitions  the  scope  of  which 
come  within  his  legitimate  range,  but  makes  him  offensive,  with 
all  his  agreeability  of  style,  the  moment  he  transcends  his  proper 
sphere.  He  manifests,  in  an  extraordinary  degree,  the  Scotch 
idiosyncrasy  which  refers  everything  exclusively  to  the  under- 
standing.    He  was  essentially  hteral. 

The  interest  of  Lord  Jeffrey's  memoirs  centres  in  the  fact  that 
its  subject  was  the  prime  agent  of  a  literary  revolution.  The 
incidents,  of  his  life  are  the  reverse  of  exti-aordinary ;  his  profes- 
sional career  has  been  surpassed,  in  many  instances,  by  his  fellow- 
advocates;  his  habits  were  systematic  and  moral;  and  his  outward 
experience  was  the  usual  alternation  of  business,  society,  jour- 
neys, and  rural  seclusion,  which  constitutes  the  routine  of  a 
prosperous  and  intelligent  citizen.  A  native  of  Edinburgh, 
where  he  was  chiefly  educated,  he  passed  a  few  uncomfortable 
months  at  Oxford ;  returned  home  and  finished  his  preparatory 
studies,  under  excellent  teachers  ;  after  much  hesitation,  adopted 
the  law  as  a  pursuit ;  in  due  time  w^as  admitted  to  the  bar,  rose 
to  the  office  of  Lord  Advocate,  took  an  active  part  in  politics,  was 
twice  happily  married.  He  visited  London  frequently,  and  there 
enjoyed  the  best  intellectual  society ;  made  excursions  to  different 
parts  of  England,  Wales,  Ireland,  and  Scotland ;  engaged  zeal- 
ously in  the  debates  and  genial  intercourse  of  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  clubs  ever  instituted ;  and  died  in  his  seventy-seventh 
year,  deeply  lamented  by  a  large  and  gifted  circle  of  Edinburgh 
society,  as  well  as  by  a  tenderly  attached  family,  and  a  host  of 
noble  friends.  In  this  career,  so  eminently  respectable  and  for- 
tunate, there  is  obviously  little  to  impress  the  public.  No 
dramatic  scenes,  curious  adventures,  tragic  combats  with  fite,  or 
touching  mysteries  of  inward  life ;  all  is  plain,  sensible,  prudent, 
and  successful.  With  the  exception  of  a  rhetorical  triumph,  a 
pood  descriptive  hint  of  scenery  or  character,  and  those  interludes 


168  THE    REVIEWER. 

of  sorrow  incident  to  the  lot  of  man,  when  the  angel  of  death 
bears  off  the  loved  and  honored,  a  singularly  even  tenor  marks 
the  experience  of  Jeffrey,  as  described  in  his  correspondence. 

Neither  is  there  discoverable  anj  surprising  endowment,  or 
fascinating  gift,  such  as  renders  the  very  name  of  some  men  a 
spell  to  quicken  fancy,  and  to  draw  tears.'^  The  order  of  his 
mind  is  within  the  sphere  of  the  familiar ;  only  in  aptness,  in 
constant  exercise  and  skill,  was  it  above  the  averaije.  With  the 
utilitarian  instinct  and  thorough  rationalism  of  his  country, 
Jeffrey  wisely  cultivated  and  judiciously  used  his  powers ;  above 
all,  he  never  distrusted  them,  but,  with  the  patience  and  the  faith 
of  a  determined  Avill,  kept  them  at  work  to  the  best  advantage,  and 
probably  reaped  as  large  a  harvest,  in  proportion  both  to  the  quality 
of  the  soil  and  the  quantity  of  the  seed,  as  Scotch  shrewdness 
and  thrift  ever  realized.  Yet,  to  continue  the  similitude,  it  was 
more  by  successive  crops,  than  by  grand  and  lasting  fruits,  that 
his  labor  was  rewarded.  Some  flowers  of  fancy  and  a  goodly  stock 
of  palatable  fodder  grew  in  his  little  garden,  but  no  stately  ever- 
greens, sacred  night-bloom,  or  glowing  passion-flowers,  such  as 
make  lovely  forever  the  haunts  of  original  genius.  To  drop  met- 
aphor, Lord  Jeffrey  owes  his  reputation,  and  is  indebted  for  the 
interest  of  his  biography,  to  tlie  eclat,  influence,  and  fame,  of  the 
Edinburgh  RevicAV.  The  merit  of  taking  the  initiative  in  a 
more  free  and  bold  style  of  periodical  literature,  the  advantages 
of  the  reform  thus  induced,  and  the  intellectual  pleasure  derived 
from  the  open  and  spirited  discussion,  by  adequate  writere,  of  public 
questions,  are  benefits  justly  associated  with  his  name,  and  alto- 
gether honorable  to  his  memory.  These  services,  however,  are 
identified,  in  many  minds,  with  an  undue  sense  of  his  critical 
authority,  and  a  submission  to  his  dicta,  occasioned  by  a  graceful 
effrontery  of  tone,  rather  than  absolute  capacity. 

Circumstances  greatly  favored  his  literary  success.  At  the 
epoch  of  the  commencement  of  his  enterprise,  the  liberal  party 
stood  in  need  of  an  efficient  organ.  The  existent  periodicals 
were  comparatively  tame  and  old-fashioned.  It  was  one  of  those 
moments  in  public  affairs  when  a  bold  appeal  was  certain  to  meet 
with  an  emphatic  response ;  and  the  party  of  friends,  among 
whom  originated  the  idea  of  a  new  and  spirited  journal;  were  not 


FRANCIS     JEFFREY.  169 

only  fitted  by  the  vigor  of  their  age,  the  warmth  of  their  feel- 
ings, and  their  respective  talents,  for  the  undertaking  in  view, 
but  were  urged  by  their  position,  sympathy,  and  hopes.  The 
great  secret  of  the  immediate  popularity  of  the  work  was 
undoubtedly  its  independence.  The  world  instinctively  rallies 
around  self-reliance,  not  only  in  the  exigencies  of  actual  life,  but 
in  the  domain  of  letters  and  politics.  Accordingly,  the  freedom 
of  discussion  at  once  indulged,  the  moral  courage  and  spirited 
tone  of  this  fraternal  band,  won  not  less  than  it  astonished.  The 
example,  so  unexpectedly  given,  in  a  region  distant  from  the  cen- 
tre of  taste  and  action  in  the  kingdom,  of  candid  and  firm  asser- 
tion of  the  right  of  private  judgment,  the  fearless  attitude 
assumed,  and  the  enlightened  spirit  displayed,  carried  with  them 
a  novel  attraction  and  the  highest  promise. 

The  Edinburgh  Keview  was  the  entering  wedge  in  the  old 
tree  of  conservatism  which  had  long  overshadowed  the  popular 
mind ;  it  was  like  the  trumpet-note  of  an  intellectual  reinforce- 
ment, the  glimmering  dawn  of  a  more  expansive  cycle  in  the 
world  of  thought.  The  feverish  speculations  ushered  in  by  the 
French  Revolution  had  prepared  the  way  for  the  reception  of 
new  views  ;  the  warfare  of  parties  had  settled  down  into  a  truce 
favorable  to  the  rational  examination  of  disputed  questions.  The 
wrongs  of  humanity  were  more  candidly  acknowledged ;  a  new 
school  of  poetry  and  philosophy  had  commenced ;  and  in  Scot- 
land, where  Jeffrey  declares  there  was  a  remarkable  '-intellect- 
ual activity  and  conceit  of  individual  wisdom,''  a  medium  of 
opinion  and  criticism  such  as  this  was  seasonable  and  welcome. 
Yet  it  is  characteristic  of  his  cool,  uninspired  mind,  that  he 
entered  upon  the  experiment  with  little  enthusiasm.  He  says,  in 
his  correspondence,  that  his  "  standard  of  human  felicity  is  set 
at  a  very  moderate  pitch,"  and  that  he  has  persuaded  himself 
that  "men  are  considerably  lower  than  angels;"  his  expecta- 
tions were  confessedly  the  reverse  of  sanguine ;  and  he  eagerly 
sought  to  establish  his  professional  resources,  and  make  literature 
subsidiary.  His  allies  were  finely  endowed.  The  wit  of  Sydney 
Smith  alone  was  a  new  feature  in  journalism  ;  and  the  remarka- 
ble coterie  of  writers,  of  which  the  Review  soon  became  the 
nucleus,  gave  it  the  prestige  of  more  versatile  talent  than  any 
15 


170  THE     REVIEWER. 

similar  work  has  ever  boasted  ;  so  that  the  editor  justly  says :  "  I 
am  a  feudal  monarch  at  best,  and  my  throne  is  overshadowed  by 
the  presumptuous  crests  of  my  nobles." 

A  novelty  in  Lord  Jeffrey's  position  was  the  social  and  even 
civic  importance  this  species  of  literature  acquired.  The  idea  of 
a  man  of  letters  had  been  associated  with  refinement,  meditation, 
and  a  life  abstracted,  in  a  great  degree,  from  the  active  concems 
of  the  world.  There  was,  however,  something  quite  adventurous, 
exciting,  and  eventful,  in  a  vocation  that  so  constantly  p^voked 
resentment  and  elicited  admiration.  Challenged  by  Moore,  car- 
rying Boswell  drunk  to  bed  in  his  boyhood,  in  correspondence 
with  Byron,  dining  with  Scott,  living  within  constant  range 
of  Sydney  Smith's  artillery  of  bon-mots,  the  companion  of 
Brougham,  Mackenzie,  Playfair,  Erskine,  Campbell,  Hamilton, 
and  other  celebrated  men  of  the  day,  his  natural  fluency  derived 
point  and  emphasis  from  colloquial  privileges;  and  doubtless 
somewhat  of  the  antagonistic  character  of  his  writings  was 
derived  from  the  lively  debates  of  the  club,  and  excited  by  the 
attrition  of  such  vigorous  and  individual  minds.  We  are  told  of 
his  ''speculative  playfulness,"  "graceful  frankness,"  and  "gay 
sincerity."  These,  and  epithets  of  a  similar  kind,  sufficiently  indi- 
cate the  causes  of  his  success.  It  was  through  the  very  quali- 
ties that  constitute  agreeability  in  society  that  he  pleased  as  a 
critic.  More  serious  and  intense  writing  would  have  repelled 
the  majority.  Lord  Jeffrey  made  no  grave  demands  on  the 
thinking  faculty;  he  did  not  appeal  to  high  imagination,  but  con- 
fined himself  to  the  level  of  a  glib,  polished,  clever,  and  often 
very  pleasant  style.  It  was  a  species  of  man-of-the-world  treat- 
ment of  books,  and  therefore  very  congenial  to  mediocre  philoso- 
phers and  complacent  men  of  taste. 

But  to  recognize  in  such  a  critic  the  aesthetic  principles  which 
should  illustrate  works  of  genius,  is  to  wantonly  neglect  those 
.more  earnest  thinkers  and  reverent  lovers  of  the  noblest  develop- 
ments of  humanity  who  have,  through  a  kindred  spirit,  inter- 
preted the  mysteries  of  creative  minds.  There  are  passages  in 
Coleridge,  Ulrici,  Schlegel,  Mackintosh,  Hazlitt,  Wilson,  Car- 
lyle,  Lamb,  and  Hunt,  which  seize  upon  the  vital  principle,  give 
the  magnetic  clue,  prolong  the  key-note  of  the  authors  they  have 


FRANCIS    JEFFREY.  171 

known  and  loved,  compared  to  which  Jeffrey's  most  brilliant 
comments  are  as  a  pyrotechnic  glare  to  the  beams  of  the  sun.^ 
The  list  of  two  hundred  articles  contributed  by  him  to  the  Edin- 
burgh displays  such  a  variety  of  subjects  as  it  is  quite  impossi- 
ble for  any  one  mind  either  thoroughly  to  master  or  sincerely 
relish.  The  part  which  he  most  ably  performs,  as  a  general 
rule,  is  what  may  be  called  the  digest  of  the  book ;  he  gives  a 
catalogue  raisonee,  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  term,  and  this  is 
excellent  service.  Biographies,  travels,  w^orks  of  science  and 
history,  are  thus  introduced  to  the  world  under  a  signal  advan- 
tage, when  there  is  no  motive  to  carp  or  exaggerate  in  the  state- 
ments. Next  to  this  class  of  writings,  he  deals  skilfully  with 
what,  for  the  sake  of  distinction,  may  be  called  the  rhetorical 
poets — those  who  give  clear  and  bold  expression  to  natural  senti- 
ment, without  a  predominance  of  the  psychological  and  imagina- 
tive. The  school  of  Pope,  which  appeals  to  the  understanding, 
the  fancy,  and  to  universal  feeling,  he  understands.  Hayley, 
Crabbe,  Campbell,  Scott,  and  portions  of  Byron,  he  analyzes 
well,  and  often  praises  and  blames  with  reason ;  to  Miss  Edge- 
worth,  Irving,  and  Stewart,  he  is  just.  But  the  sentiment  of 
Barry  Cornwall,  the  suggestive  imagery  of  Coleridge,  the  high 
philosophy  of  Wordsworth,  and  the  luxuriant  beauty  of  Keats, 
often  elude  the  grasp  of  his  prying  intellect. 

The  lack  of  spiritual  insight  was  another  disqualification  of 
Lord  Jeffrey  as  a  critic  of  the  highest  poetry.  Trained  to  logical 
skill,  and  apt  in  rhetoric,  he  never  seems  to  have  felt  a  misgiving 
in  regard  to  their  sufficiency  as  means  of  interpretation,  of  every 
species  of  mental  product.  The  intuitive  creations  of  genius, 
born  of  the  soul  and  not  ingenuously  elaborated  by  study,  the 
''  imagination  all  compact"  o,f  the  genuine  bard,  were  approached 
by  his  vivacious  mind  with  an  irreverent  alacrity.  To  place  him- 
self in  sympathetic  relation  with  an  individual  inindj  the  only 
method  of  reliable  criticism,  was  a  procedure  he  ignored;  the 
play  of  his  own  fancy  and  knowledge,  and  the  oracular  announce- 
ment of  his  judgment,  were  the  primary  objects  ;  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  the  author  quite  secondary.  Ho  reviewed  objectively, 
and  arraigned  books  at  his  tribunal  without  that  jury  of  peers 
which  true  genius  claims  by  virtue  of  essential  right.     A  merely 


^': 


172  THE     REVIEWER. 

agreeable  or  indifferent  subject  thus  treated  may  afford  entertain- 
ment, exactly  as  a  lively  chat  on  the  passing  topics  of  the  day 
amuses  a  vacant  hour ;  but  when  the  offspring  of  an  earnest 
mind,  and  the  overflowing  of  a  nature  touched  to  fine  issues,  are 
sportively  discussed  and  despatched  with  gay  authority,  the  impa- 
tience of  more  reverent  minds  is  naturally  excited. 

There  was  a' philosophical  elevation  in  Burke  that  tempered  his 
severest  comments ;  a  noble  candor  in  Montaigne  that  often  rec- 
onciles us  to  his  worldliness.  Carlyle  betrays  so  deep  a  sympa- 
thy that  it  robs  his  sarcasm  of  bitterness,  and  Macaulay  is  sd'pic- 
turesque  and  glowing''that  the  reader  cheerfully  allows  an  occa- 
sional want  of  discrimination  to  unity  of  effect.  But  to  that 
mental  superiority  which  consists  in '^sprightliness  of  tone  and 
'  ingenuity  of  thought  we  are  less  charitable ;^'pertnes3  of  manner^' 
is  not  conciliating;  and  off-hand,  nonchalant,  and  superficial  decis- 
ions, in  the  case  of  authors  who  have  excited  real  enthusiasm  and 
r\jjB^^^^\  spoken  to  our  inmost  consciousness,  are  not  received jyithout  seri- 
>>-M^K<i  ous  protest.  It  is  for  these  reasons  that  Lord  Jeffrey  occupies  but  _ 
a  temporary  place.  He  did  not  seize  upon'  those  broad  and  eternal 
principles  *which  render  literary  obligations  permanent ;  he  was 
an  excellent  pioneer,  and  cleared  the  way  for  more  complete 
writers  to  follow  ;  his  iridependence  was  conducive  to  progress  in 
criticism,  and  his  agreeable  style  made  it  attractive;  but  a  mwe^  • 
profound  and  earnest  feeling  is  now  absolutely  required  in  dealing  ^J^^ 
with  the  emanations  of  genius.  Too  much  of  the  merely  clever 
and  amusing  manner  of  Horace  "VValpole,  and^oo  little  enthusi- 
asm for  truth,  characterize  his  remarks  on  the  really  gifted.  In 
the  discussion  of  current  literature,  the  claims  of  which  are  those 
of  information  and  style  only,  no  reviewer  can  give  a  better  com- 
pend,  or  sum  up  merits  and  defects  with  more  brilhancy  and 
tact. 

It  is  natural  to  expect,  in  the  posthumous  biography  of  influ- 
ential men,  a  key  to  the  riddle  of  their  success,  a  solution  of  the 
problem  of  character,  and  such  a  revelation  of  personal  facts  as 
will  throw  light  upon  what  is  anomalous  in  their  career,  or  ex- 
plain, in  a  measure,  the  process  of  their  development.  The  lives 
of  Dr.  Johnson,  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  of  Schiller,  and,  among 
recent  instances,  of  Keats,   Lamb,  and   Sterling,  by  the  new 


FRANCIS     JEFFREY.  173 

1 
information  they  convey  in  regard  to  the  domestic  situation,  the  k  J  '-w 

original  temperament,  and  the  private  circumstances  of  each,  have  ^'^  ^*' 
greatly  modified  previous  estimates,  and  awakened  fresh  sympa- 
thy and  more  liberal  judgments.  The  life  of  Lord  Jeffrey  leaves 
upon  the  mind  a  better  impression  of  the  man  than  obtains  among 
those  who  knew  him  only  through  the  pages  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review,  while  it  confirms  the  idea  which  those  writin^js  sus^est 

'  O  Co 

of  the  author.  On  the  one  hand  is  found  a  love  of  nature  and  a 
life  of  the  affections  which  could  not  have  been  inferred,  at  least 
to  their  real  extent,  from  the  articles  on  which  his  literary  fame 
rests ;  and,  on  the  other,  w^c  perceive  exactly  the  original  habits 
of  mind,  course  of  study,  and  tendencies  of  opinion,  to  be  antici- 
pated from  his  intellectual  career.  Accordingly,  the  integrity, 
steady  friendships,  conjugal  and  parental  devotion,  and  enjoyment 
of  the  picturesque,  which  are  so  conspicuous  in  the  man,  and  so 
worthy  of  respect  and  sympathy,  should  not  be  allowed  to  inter- 
fere with  our  consideration  of  his  merits  as  a  wTiter  and  critic. 

Jeffrey  belongs  essentially  to  the  class  of  writers  who  are  best  ; 
designated  a^hetoricians^f  that  is,  if  closely  analyzed,  it  will  be 
seen  that  his  force  lies  entirely  in^"" sagacity  amr language.*  'Flu-  '': 
ency,'' vitalized  by  a  certain*  animation  of  mind,  is  his  principal 
means  of  effect ;  words  he  knows  well  how  to  marshal  in  brilliant 
array;  he^'points  a  sentence^,  rounds  a  paragraph^,  gives  "emphasis^ 
to  an  expression,  witk  both  grace  and  spirit.     But  the  value  of      A  \  ^ 
these  elements  of  style  \is  to  be  estimated,  like  the  crayons  and  (^(f'^  ^ 
pigments  of  the  artist,  by  the*qualities'''they  are  made  to  unfold,       ^ 
the  Ideas  they  embody,  the  "uses' to  which  they  are  devoted.    Jef- 
frey possessed  them  by  virtue  of  an  original  quickness  of  intellect 
and  patient  industry. 

The  most  striking  fact  of  his  early  culture  is  the  perseverance 
with  which  he  practised  the  art  of  composition,  not  as  an  academic 
exercise,  but  as  a  means  of  personal  improvement ;  he  wrote  elab- 
orate papers  on  various  subjects ;  and  at  the  end  recorded  his 
opinion  of  them,  usually  the  reverse  of  complacent;  and  this 
course  he  pursued  for  years,  as  is  proved  by  the  quantity  and  the 
dates  of  the  manuscripts  he  left.  No  stronger  evidence  is  re- 
quired of  the  predominance  of  the  technical  over  the  inspired  in 
his  authorship,  than  this  deliberate  toil  to  master  the  art  of  ex- 
15* 


^.(^ 


1T4  THE    REVIEWER. 

pression,  as  a  means  of  success  and  a  professional  acquisition.  It 
now  appears  that  he  carried  the  experiment  into  verse,  and  imi- 
tated the  manner  of  all  the  English  poets,  evidently  hoping  to 
obtain  the  same  facility  in  poetry  as  in  prose.  His  good  sense, 
however,  soon  induced  him  to  abandon  the  former  attempt ;  but 
the  knowledge  of  versification  and  the  machinery  of  this  highest 
department  of  letters,  thus  acquired,  was  the  basis  of  his  subse- 
quent criticisms,  and  accounts  for  his  familiarity  with  the  letter, 
and  ignorance  of  the  inward  spirit,  of  the  Muse.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
perfectly  Scotch  process,  to  set  about  a  course  of  study  and  prac- 
tice in  order  to  think  correctly  even  on  subjects_so  identified  with 
natural  sentiment  as  to  repudiate  analysis.  The  romance  of  lite^ 
'rature,  or  rather  its  highest  function,  —  that  of  appealing  to  i 
human  consciousness  and  unfolding  the  mysteries  of  the  passions  1 
^  and  the  awakened  sense  of  beauty,  —  is  efiectually  destroyed  by 
^     I  so  cool  and  premeditated  an  application  of  causality  to  emotioiiy'' 

There  is  in  it  a  literal  mode  of  thought  utterly  destructive  of    ^o)^ 
4*Ji^'^'^* illusion;  the  vague  and  inexplicable,  the  *'terroi^and^ity"  whichfif  i^^ 
^'4       *^lift  our  nature  above  itself,  and  ally  it  with  the  jnfinite,''fire  quite*^ 
unrecognized ;  the  oracles  of  humanity  are  rudely  disrobed,  the 
sanctities  of  art  violated  for  the  sake  of  conventional  propriety ; 
and  what  should  be  instinctively  regarded  as   holy,  precious, 
and  apart  from  the  familiar,  is  made  to  wear  a  commonplace 
aspect. 

JeiFrey  seems  to  have  mistaken  a  zest  for  extej'nal  charms  for 
►^^>li»  I  '    a  sympathy  with  poetical  experiences^  Even  his  essay  on  Beauty, 
ojpv^^O  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  is  commended  by  his  biographer 
I  ^Y*^    for  its  graceful  ingenuity,  and  not  for  sympathetic  insight  or 
profound  analysis.     His  flippancy,  however   pleasant  when  ex- 
pended on  casual  topics,  is  often  intolerable  as  applied  to  men  of 
genius.    He  sees  that  Joanna  Baillie  is  a  ''nice  old  woman,"  but 
faintly  realizes  the  positive  grandeur  of  feeling  which,  like  a  sol- 
emn atmosphere,   exhales  from  Basil   and  De  Montfort.      He 
designates  faults  in  Southey's  poems,  and  recognizes  the  looming 
of  his  gorgeous  fancy,  as  one  might  point  out  an  agreeable  pattern 
of  chintz.     He  is  very  charitably  disposed  towards   ''Tommy 
Campbell,"  wonders  at  the  "  rapidity  and  facility"  of  Burns,  and 
thinks,  with  his  own  "present  fortune  and  influence,"  he  could 


FRANCIS     JEFFREY.  175 

have  preserved  him  a  long  time.  He  is  of  opinion  that  Words- 
worth, upon  acquaintance,  is  "  not  the  least  lakish,  or  even  in  a 
degree  poetical,  but  rather  a  hard  and  sensible  worldly  sort  of  a 
man;"  and  that  Crabbe,  "the  wretch,  Las  outrageous  fiiults." 
He  writes  dunning  letters  to  Horner,  urging  him  to  "do"  Mal- 
thus  or  Sismondi,  very  much  as  a  sea-captain  miglit  write  to  his 
mate  to  scrape  a  deck,  or  a  farmer  order  his  man  to  hoe  a  field 
of  potatoes.  He  praises  Dickens'  "  Notes"  on  this  country,  —  as 
shallow  a  book  of  travels  as  ever  appeared,  —  but  does  not  relish 
the  character  of  Micawber,  one  of  the  best  creations  of  the  author ; 
and  he  indulges  in  reminiscences  of  the  New  York  Park  and 
Bloomingdale,  without  having  taken  the  trouble,  during  some 
months'  residence  in  that  city,  to  go  up  the  Hudson. 

The  most  creditable  of  his  literary  tastes  weie  his  admiration 
of  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  and  his  sensibility  to  tiie  pathos  of  such 
characters  as  Little  Nell  and  Tom  Pinch.  Indeed,  the  "gentle 
sobs  "  he  confesses,  and  the  hearty  appreciation  he  felt  towards 
the  humane  novelist,  seem  to  indicate  that,  with  advancing  life, 
his  nature  mellowed  and  his  sensibilities  deepened.  A  kindness 
for  men  of  genius,  which  led  him  frequently  to  offer  them  judi- 
cious advice  and  pecuniary  aid,  is  one  of  Jeffrey's  most  excellent 
traits;  and  a  social  enterprise,  which  made  his  house  the  centre 
of  intellectual  companionship  in  Edinburgh,  and  induced  habits 
of  genial  intercourse  among  his  contemporaries,  men  of  state,  let- 
ters, and  science,  is  also  to  be  regarded  as  a  public  benefit.  Nor 
less  frankly  should  be  acknowledged  his  unsullied  honor,  refined 
hospitality,  habits  of  patient  industry,  and  free  and  often  brilliant 
conversation.  But  these  benign  and  useful  qualities,  while  they 
challenge  respect  and  gratitude,  and  endear  the  memory  of  Jef- 
frey, do  not  give  authority  to  his  principles  of  literary  judgment, 
or  sanction  his  claim  to  be  the  expositor  of  the  highest  literature 
and  the  deepest  truth. 

It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  the  amiable  character  depicted  in 
these  volumes  is  the  same  individual  whose  critical  severity  once 
caused  such  a  flutter  in  the  dovecote  of  authors ;  whose  opinion 
was  expected  with  almost  the  trepidation  of  a  judicial  sentence, 
and  whose  praise  and  rebuke  were  deemed,  by  so  large  and 
respectable  an  audience,  as  final  tests  of  literary  rank.     Lord 


176  THE    REVIEWER. 

Cockburn  assumes,  what,  indeed,  facts  seem  greatly  to  confirm, 
that  his  award  was  usually  conscientious,  and  that  he  had  warmly 
at  heart  the  best  interests  of  literature  as  he  understood  them. 
Of  malice  or  selfish  views  there  is  scarcely  any  evidence;  and  his 
personal  feelings,  towards  the  very  writers  he  most  stringently  con- 
demned, appear  to  have  been  kind.  There  is  a  striking  contrast 
between  the  amenities  of  taste,  good  fellowship,  domesticity,  and 
rural  enjoyment,  amid  which  he  lived,  and  the  idea  of  a  ferocious 
critic  so  generally  identified  with  his  name.  It  is  another  and  a 
memorable  instance  of  the  want  of  correspondence,  in  essential 
traits,  between  authorship  and  character.  To  have  inspired  con- 
fidence, respect,  and  affection,  to  the  extent  visible  in  his  memoii-s, 
among  the  most  gifted  and  the  best  men  of  his  day,  is  ample 
proof  of  the  merit  claimed  in  his  behalf  by  the  friend  who  de- 
scribes his  career.  Yet,  even  admitting  the  conclusion  drawn 
from  these  premises,  —  that  "  he  was  the  founder  of  a  new  sys- 
tem of  criticism,  and  this  a  higher  one  than  had  ever  existed," 
and  that  "as  an  editor  and  a  writer  he  did  as  much  to  improve 
his  country  and  the  world  as  can  almost  ever  be  done  by  discus- 
sion, by  a  single  man,"  — Uhere  is  a  progressive  as  well  as  a 
retrospective  standard,  an  essential  as  well  as  a  comparative  test, 
and  a  degree  not  less  than  an  extent  of  insight  to  which  such  a 
Writer  is  amenable,  and  by  which  alone  he  can  be  philosophically 

^  estimated.     It  is  doubtless  a  most  useful  and  desirable  object  of 
(criticism  to,  elucidate. the iiil  and  discover  tha-JJJQial .jafliifji.ce  of 
literature ;  the  censor  in  both  these  spheres  is  a  requisite  nainister 
(to  social  welfare ;  but  they  doji^coyeiM;hfijiliQlc aground.  Genius 
/may' transgress  an  acknowledged  law  ofj^te  in  obedience  to  a 
'higher  law  of  truth  ;  and  the  so-called  moral  of  a  work  ^ay  be, 
^and  often  is,  misinterpreted  by  conventional  rules      Comprehen- 
sive sympathies,  as  well  as  quick  perception,  recognition  of  the 
)riginal,  as  well  as  knowledge  of  the  prescriptive,  are  needful 
[ualities  in  the  critic.     Loyalty  to  intuitive  sentiment,  as  well  as 
to  external  standards,  is  demanded ;  and  a  catholic  temper,  which 
i  embraces  with  cordiality  the  idiosyncrasies  that  invariably  distin- 

Wish  original  minds,  is  indispensable  to  their  appreciation. 

It  is  not  what  Lord  Jeffrey  "rather  likes,"  or  what  "will 
never  do"  in  his  opinion,  that  disposes  of  those  appeals  to  the 


/ 

F  11 ANCIS     JEFFREY.  -  177 

human  soul  which  the  truly  gifted  utter,  and  to  which  mankind 
respond ;  and  the  courteous  dogmatism  and  the  jaunty  grace 
with  which  this  famous  reviewer  sometimes  pronounces  upon  the 
calibre  and  the  mission  of  the  priests  of  nature,  are,  therefore, 
not  only  inadmissible,  but  frequently  impertinent.  One  is  occa- 
sionally reminded  of  Charles  Lamb's  impatience  at  the  literal 
character  of  the  Scotch  mind,  and  his  quaint  anecdotes  to  illus- 
trate it,  in  Jeffrey's  positive  rule-and-compass  style  when  dis- 
cussing the  productions  of  genuine  poets.  How  to  enjoy  these 
benefactions  is  as  important  a  lesson  as  how  to  judge  them ;  and 
it  is  no  less  an  evidence  of  discrimination  deeply  to  feel  beauties, 
than  readily  to  pick  flaws. 

The  art  of  philosophizing  attractively  upon  literary  and  polit- 
ical questions  of  immediate  interest  was,  indeed,  excellently  illus- 
trated by  Jeffrey,  in  those  instances  which  did  not  surpass  his 
power  of  insight.  Where  the  personal  feelings  were  not  engaged, 
it  was  also  an  agreeable  pastime  to  follow  his  destructive  feats ; 
see  him  annihilate  a  poetaster,  or  insinuate  away  the  pretensions 
of  a  book-wright.  This  he  did  in  so  cool  a  manner,  and  with 
such  a  gentlemanly  sneer,  and  refinement  of  badinage,  that  it 
was  like  watching  an  elegant  fencing- match,  or  capital  shots  in  a 
pistol-gallery.  The  process  and  the  principle,  however,  of  this 
kind  of  reviewing  were  based  upon  that  French  philosophy  which 
delights  in  ridicule,  and  ignores  reverence.  Accordingly,  its 
spirit  is  essentially  sceptical,  fault-finding,  narrow,  and  smart, 
and  therefore  quite  inapplicable  to  the  intuitive,  the  latent,  deli- 
cate, and  more  lofty  emanations  of  literature.  Its  office  is  to  deal 
with  talent,  not  genius ;  with  attainments,  not  inspiration  ;  with 
the  form  and  ?^ationale,  not  with  the  minute  principles  and  divine 
mysteries  of  life.  Where  knowledge,  tact,  and  wit,  were  availa-" 
ble,  Jcffi-ey  shone.  He  possessed  a  remarkable  degree  of  what 
may  be  called  the  eloquence  of  sense ;  but  he  lacked  soul  —  the 
asshnilating  and  revealing  principle  in  man.  His  intellect  needed 
humanizing.  He  looked  upon  an  author  objectively,  with  a  scien-  ^'^^^f 
tific,  not  a  sympathetic  vision,  and,  therefore,  as  regards  the 
highest,  never  came  into  a  legitimate  relation  with  them.  Ho  \ 
wanted  that  enthusiasm  which,  if  it  sometimes  exaggerates  merit, 
and  is  blind  to  defects,  yet  always  warms  the  mind  into  an  unity 


]  ji    Liu 


178  THE     REVIEWER. 

of  perception,  and  an  intensity  of  observation,  which  opens  new 
vistas  of  truth.  Jeffrey's  analytical  power  is  not  denied;  but 
one  only  demurs  at  the  extent  of  authority  as  a  critic  which,  by 
virtue  of  it,  he  claimed.  There  is  a  captious  tone  in  his  reviews 
of  poets,  an  unimpassioned  statement,  a  self-possessed  balancing 
of  the  scales  of  justice,  quite  too  mechanical  to  be  endured  with 
patience.  He  thrusts  himself  arrogantly  into  a  sphere  of  thought 
or  feeling  sacred  to  thousands,  and  peers  about  with  the  bold 
curiosity  of  a  successful  attorney.  He  really  appreciates  only 
knowledge,  reasoning  power,  and  the  external  laws  of  taste ;  and 
whatever  appealed  to  instincts  which  were  deficient  in  him,  he 
pronounced  either  false  or  absurd. 

A  man  of  any  real  modesty  or  respect  for  others  would  hesi- 
tate before  utterly  condemning  a  foreign  work  held  in  universal 
admiration  in  the  country  of  its  origin ;  and  would  ascribe  the 
fact  of  its  not  impressing  him  to  his  own  ignorance  of  the  lan- 
guage, or  insensibility  to  the  sentiment.  Jeflfrey,  on  the  contrary, 
/flippantly  ridicules,  as  puerile  and  meaningless,  the  favorite  fiction 
'  of  the  Germans,  while  confessedly  ignorant  of  their  language,  and 
obviously  wanting  that  imagination  to  which  it  appeals.  He  rails 
against  the  errors  of  Alfieri,  Swift,  and  Burns,  with  a  scornful 
hardihood  that  shows  how  little  their  genius  won  his  sympathies, 
or  their  misfortunes  touched  his  heart. 

With  a  practical  gauge,  regulated  by  the  intellectual  tone  of 
an  Edinburgh  clique,  and  having  for  its  highest  standard  only 
intelligence  and  the  laws  of  outward  morality,  he  discusses  the 
'lives  of  such  men,  without  a  capacity  to  enter  into  their  motives, 
to  appreciate  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed,  or  to 
estimate  the  trials  and  triumphs  of  their  natures.  He  ascribes 
Franklin's  self-education  to  the  antagonism  of  an  unfavorable 
situation  rather  than  to  his  own  perseverance  and  love  of  knowl- 
edge ;  and  is  chiefly  struck  in  Cowper's  poetry  with  the  ballad  on 
the  loss  of  the  Royal  George.  A  novel  of  Miss  Edgeworth,  in 
which  prudence  and  common  sense  are  the  ideal  of  human  char- 
acter, he  can  heartily  praise  ;  a  well-written,  authentic  narrative, 
like  Irving' s  Life  of  Columbus,  or  a  faithful  and  graphic  biogra- 
phy, like  the  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Hutchinson,  he  gives  a  very 
intelligent  account  of     But,  not  content  with  such  useful  labors, 


FRANCIS    JEFFREY.  179 

he  has  the  temerity  to  wander  out  of  his  course,  and  tell  the 
world  that  the  Excursion  "will  never  do,"  and  that  the  author 
of  Genevieve  and  the  Ancient  Mariner  is  a  foolish  mystic.  .  His 
want  of  enthusiasm,  however,  in  certain  instances,  is  advan- 
tageous to  a  fair  judgment,,  where  works  of  pure  imagination 
or  sentiment  are  not  in  question.  Thus,  having  cherished  no 
unreasonable  anticipations  in  regard  to  Fox's  Life  of  James  I., 
he  was  not  disappointed  on  its  appearance,  like  the  rest  of  the 
world,  but  did  the  author  and  his  book  critical  justice ;  and  he 
exhibited  with  great  candor  the  brilliant  ideas  of  Madame  de 
Stael,  while  he  repudiated  her  perfectionist  theories.  Indeed, 
one  of  the  greatest  merits  of  Jeffrey  is  his  able  synopsis  of 
works  of  fact  and  reasoning.  He  sums  up  a  book  as  he  would  a 
case,  and  makes  a  statement  to  the  literary  world  with  the  ingen- 
ious brevity  and  emphasis  that  he  would  use  to  a  jury.  One 
great  reason  of  the  popularity  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  was 
that  he  made  it  an  intelligent  and  readable  epitome  of  current 
literature. 

Jeffrey  claims  a  high  and  consistent  morality  for  his  long 
series  of  articles.  It  is  true  he  always  speaks  disapprovingly  of 
the  errors  of  genius ;  but  we  fail  to  perceive  in  them  that  enlarged 
and  tender  spirit  of  humanity  which  softens  judgment,  and  throws 
the  mantle  of  charity  over  the  shivering  form  exposed  to  the  pit- 
iless world.  He  failed  in  parliament,  notwithstanding  the  shrill 
melody  of  his  voice  ;  it  was  too  piercing  to  fascinate  ;  and  so  we 
imagine  his  mind  was  too  acute  to  embrace  cordially  the  interests 
and  mysteries  of  his  race.  Upon  the  former  his  attention  was 
too  exclusively  fixed  ;  for  the  latter  he  had  not  that  sentiment  of 
awe  which  gives  a  solemn  meaning  and  a  sublime  pity  to  the 
contemplation  of  genius.  Copious  in  information,  vivacious  in 
expression,  dogmatical  in  tone,  Jeffrey's  talk,  like  his  writing, 
was  animated,  witty,  and  fluent ;  he  was  often  abstracted  in  man- 
ner, his  conversation  was  interlarded  with  French  epithets,  and, 
in  seclusion,  he  was  often  depressed.  There  was  more  tact  and 
less  seriousness  of  purpose  and  feeling  about  him  than  any  of  his 
brilliant  contemporaries ;  and,  therefore,  his  writings  have  not 
the  same  standard  value.  -^He  sacrificed  to  the  immediate,  and 
was  a  representative  of  the  times. 


180  THE     REVIEWEB. 

There  was,  with  all  his  apparent  readiness  and  candor,  no  lit^ 
tie  prudence  in  his  character.  He  was  a  kind  of  sublimated 
Yankee,  and  the  ideal  of  a  clever  literary  Scotchman.  The  poets 
he  really  did  appreciate  are  Campbell  and  Crabbe  —  the  one  by 
his  direct  rhetoric  and  high  finish,  and  the  other  by  his  detail 
and  Flemish  tone,  rendered  themselves  intelligible  to  Jeffrey; 
this  was  partially  the  case,  also,  with  Byron,  Moore,  and  Keats ; 
but,  where  they  trench  upon  the  highly  imaginative,  or  earnestly 
sentimental,  lie  is  obviously  nonplussed.  It  is  on  account  of  the 
want  of  completeness  in  Jeffrey's  views  and  sympathies  that  one  is 
disposed  to  regard  him  as  an^able  reviewer,  instead, of  a  great 
critic.  The  evidence  of  this  may  be  found  in  the  very  small 
quantity  of  his  voluminous  writings  that  now  possesses  any  vital 
interest  and  permanent  beauty.  So  many  of  his  speculations 
want  originality  and  a  solid  basis,  and  so  many  of  his  judgments 
have  been  superseded,  that  only  here  and  there  the  lightsome 
aptness  of  a  remark,  the  grace  of  a  description,  or  the  analytical 
justice  of  a  comment,  detain  us;  while  the  sensible  tone  and 
pleasing  style  vividly  realize  the  cause  of  the  sway  once  enjoyed 
by  this  autocrat  of  literature. 


THE  TOLERANT  COLONIST 

ROGER    WILLIAMS. 


Perhaps  the  best  definition  of  true  greatness  is  loyalty  to  a 
principle ;  it  is  certainly  the  secret  of  eminent  success,,  and  the 
pledge  of  true  fame.  Fidelity  to  a  grand  and  worthy  aim  is  the 
highest  inspiration ;  and  it  is  because  the  subject  of  this  memoir 
looked  steadily  beyond  the  pale  of  sect,  and  the  motives  of  self- 
interest,  and  strove  earnestly  for  an  invaluable,  progressive,  and 
essential  truth,  that  his  memory  is  hallowed  and  his  influence 
permanent. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  so  few  incidents  have  been 
recorded  of  a  man  who  first  introduced  a  knowledge  of  the  Indian 
languages  into  England,  who  first  established  a  colony  in  the 
New  World  upon  the  recognized  basis  of  toleration,  and  who 
anticipated  Locke  and  Bayle  in  maintaining  the  excellence  of  that 
principle  in  its  unlimited  significance.  The  absence  of  the  usual 
details  in  his  biography  may,  perhaps,  be  accounted  for  by  the 
prejudice  which  his  individuality  excited  among  his  cotemporaries, 
and  the  influence  of  sectional  jealousy.  It  was  at  once  the  glory 
and  the  misfortune  of  Roger  Williams  to  vindicate  a  great  prac- 
tical truth,  and  to  experience  the  transitions  of  opinion  to  which 
every  independent  mind  is  liable ;  hence,  while  he  is  endeared  to 
all  generous  thinkers,  he  is  the  absolute  exponent  of  no  sect ;  and 
it  is  only  within  a  few  years  that  justice  has  been  awarded  his 
name  by  the  historian.  Educated  at  Oxford,  he  entered  the 
Church  of  England,  but  soon  left  her  priesthood  for  the  more 
16 


182       THE  TOLERANT  COLONIST. 

simple  faith  of  the  Puritans,  came  to  America,  and,  by  question- 
ing the  justice  of  the  king's  colonial  patents,  and  the  right  of 
legal  interference  with  religious  faith  and  observance,  drew  upon 
himself  reproach  and  persecution,  before  which  he  fled  to  the 
wilderness,  and  founded  a  colony  in  a  more  liberal  spirit,  embraced 
some  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Anabaptists,  and,  for  a  while,  was  a 
*  settled  preacher  of  their  denomination,  but,  finally,  renounced 
their  main  tenet,  and  went  through  various  phases  of  religious 
conviction,  often  to  the  detriment  of  his  popularity  and  worldly 
success.  He  was  repeatedly  chosen  to  preside  over  the  colony, 
twice  sent  on  embassies  to  England  in  its  behalf,  and,  through- 
out his  life,  successfully  defended  its  interests.  He  was  on  terms 
of  high  confidence  with  all  the  New  England  governors,  and 
exerted  a  rare  influence  over  the  neighboring  aboriginal  tribes. 
He  was  born  in  Wales,  in  1624,  and  died  at  Providence,  R.  I., 
in  April,  1683. 

The  only  memorials  of  this  remarkable  man,  previous  to  Elton's 
Life,  except  incidental  notices,  are  his  life  by  Professor  Knowles, 
an  elaborate  poem  by  Judge  Durfee,  and  a  biographical  introduc- 
tion to  a  modern  edition  of  one  of  his  controversial  tracts.  Mr. 
Elton's  book  has  the  advantage  of  being  a  consecutive  narrative, 
with  no  more  documents  than  are  absolutely  requisite  to  render 
it  authentic.  Many  new  facts,  principally  the  result»of  inquiries 
in  England,  are  also  now  made  public  for  the  first  time ;  and 
thus  the  volume  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  American  biography, 
as  well  as  a  most  interesting  memorial  of  colonization  and  the 
progress  of  religious  freedom.  The  subject  deserves,  and  will 
ultimately  attain  recognition  as  one  of  those  rare  combinations 
of  the  saint  and  hero  which  redeem  the  annals  of  our  race. 

Roger  Williams  implicitly  believed  in  a  Providence,  and  has 
identified  himself  with  this  faith  by  giving  that  name  to  the  set- 
tlement he  founded ;  and  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  facts 
of  his  career  justify  the  sentiment  he  cherished.  It  would  be 
difficult,  in  the  annals  of  the  period,  to  imagine  a  combination  of 
events  more  adapted  to  educate  a  pioneer  of  toleration  than  those 
which  attended  his  life.  Of  inherited  endowments  it  is  sufficient 
to  note  the  remarkable  identity  of  his  genealogy  with  that  of 
Cromwell.     Moral   courage  and  independent  opinion  were  thus 


ROGER     WILLIAMS.  183 

native  to  his  blood.  The  next  individual  with  whom  his  name. is 
associated  was  Sir  Edward  Coke.  From  his  birthplace,  amid 
the  beautiful  scenery  of  Wales,  we  trace  him  to  the  Star  Chamber 
in  London,  where  his  remarkable  skill  as  a  reporter  gained  him 
the  favorable  notice  of  this  first  lawyer  of  the  age.  Coke  sent 
him  to  school  and  college ;  and,  subsequently,  for  a  brief  space, 
instructed  him  in  his  own  profession.  The  insight  thus  obtained, 
as  to  the  principles  of  jurisprudence,  was  of  great  practical  benefit 
to  the  future  colonial  legislator ;  but  a  higher  advantage  resulted 
from  this  early  contact  with  a  mind  seldom  equalled  for  acute- 
ness,  and  a  man  who,  notwithstanding  his  pitiless  arrogance  of 
temper,  clearly  understood  the  grounds  of  English  liberty,  and 
first  stated  them  with  precision  and  legal  effect.  It  was  certainly 
a  propitious  accident  that  rendered  the  author  of  the  Bill  of 
Rights,  and  the  defender  of  the  Commons,  a  benefactor  of  the 
youth  destined  to  become  the  advocate  of  free  principles  in  the 
New  World.  Williams  early  chose  theology  as  a  vocation ;  and, 
when  admitted  to  orders  in  the  Church  of  England,  became  the 
companion  of  Hooker,  and  the  most  eminent  divines  of  the  times. 
If  he  did  not  have  a  parish  in  Lincolnshire,  it  was  his  place  of 
residence  ;  and  there,  as  is  well  known,  the  bishop  of  the  diocese 
tacitly  encouraged  the  Nonconformists,  so  that  Williams  had  the 
best  opportunity  to  realize  his  latent  convictions ;  and,  when  the 
persecution  of  Laud  became  intolerable,  followed  the  example  of 
his  fellow-dissenters,  and  emigrated. 

The  manner  in  which  the  arrival  of  the  young  clergyman  at 
Boston,  on  the  5th  of  February,  1631,  is  mentioned,  evinces  the 
reputation  he  had  already  gained  as  a  man  of  vigorous  under- 
standing and  individuality  of  character.  He  was  first  settled  at 
Salem,  and  soon  rose  in  the  respect  and  attachment  of  the  inhab- 
itants ;  but,  liaving  openly  asserted  that  the  magistrates  had  no 
authority  to  punish  a  breach  of  the  Sabbath,  the  civil  power  inter- 
fered, and  thus  began  the  series  of  intolerant  acts  which  finally 
drove  him  to  the  complete  assertion  and  practical  development  of 
religious  liberty.  The  question  ostensibly  at  issue,  however, 
between  the  municipal  authorities  and  the  clergymen,  was  not 
the  real  ground  of  alienation.  His  offence  actually  consisted  in  a 
refusal  to  recognize  a  society  that  professed  allegiance  to  the 


184  THE     TOLERANT     COLONIST. 

English  Church.  The  force  of  public  opinion  drove  him  from 
Salem ;  and  he  became  the  minister  of  Plymouth,  subsequently 
returning  to  his  first  residence.  His  known  views  on  the  subject 
of  Church  and  State,  and  the  emphasis  with  which  he  claimed 
the  right  of  private  judgment  and  free  action  in  religion,  neutral- 
ized the  personal  influence  which  a  blameless  life  and  signal 
abilities  created.  Governor  Winthrop,  always  his  friend,  advised 
him  to  remove  to  a  region  where  he  could  enjoy  and  advocate  his 
sentiments  without  molestation;  and  suggested,  as  the  nearest 
place,  the  country  then  designated  as  Narraganset  Bay.  He  first 
went  to  Seekonk;  but  Winslow,  the  Governor  of  Plymouth, 
warned  him,  even  after  he  had  built  and  planted  there,  that  he 
was  still  within  the  jurisdiction  of  their  state;  and,  accordingly, 
loath,  as  he  says,  "  to  displease  the  Bay,"  he  transferred  his  set- 
tlement across  the  water. 

The  circumstances  of  his  departure  from  his  old  associates,  and 
of  his  selection  of  a  locality  for  the  new  colony,  have  an  additional 
pathos  and  beauty  that  might  inspire  a  poet.  Having  battled  in 
vain  against  the  narrow  prejudices  of  his  townsmen,  he  was  sen- 
tenced to  banishment ;  but  the  season  of  the  year,  and  the  claims 
of  a  family,  induced  him  to  postpone  his  departure.  The  acqui- 
escence of  the  magistrates  in  this  delay  did  not,  however,  prevent 
Williams  from  giving  utterance  to  his  opinions  in  conversation, 
and  the  attachment  he  had  inspired  gained  him  many  willing 
auditors.  This  casual  success  irritated  his  enemies,  and  informa- 
tion was  privately  conveyed  to  their  victim  that  a  plan  had  been 
arranged  to  send  him  to  England  by  a  vessel  about  to  sail.  His 
only  resource  was  flight ;  and,  on  a  winter's  night,  with  a  hatchet, 
compass,  tinder-box,  some  provisions,  and  the  Bible,  he  left  his 
fireside  and  tearful  wife  and  children,  and  plunged  into  the 
forest,  trusting  rather  to  savage  hospitality  than  the  mercy  of  his 
own  race ;  and,  like  Lear,  in  his  keen  sense  of  human  cruelty, 
ready  to  brave  the  fury  of  the  elements.  The  sufferings  incident 
to  such  an  expedition  it  is  easy  to  imagine ;  they  form  another 
episode  in  the  drama  of  his  life,  infusing  a  spirit  of  endurance 
and  the  sanction  of  martyrdom  into  the  heroic  purpose  of  his  soul. 
Less  stern  and  wearisome  was  the  subsequent  exploration  of  the 
river  upon  which  his  little  band  floated  in  search  of  a  new  asylum. 


ROGER     WILLIAMS.  185 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer  day.  Their  leader  had  already  enjoyed 
an  interval  of  comparative  ease ;  his  life  had  been  miraculously 
preserved,  and  his  confidence  renewed.  It  was  decided  to  select 
a  location  in  accordance  with  the  greeting  of  the  Indians ;  and 
thrice  TT7frt/-^7<ctT?  welcomed  the  fugitives  to  the  site  of  Provi- 
dence. 

When  Roger  Williams  entered  this  wild  territory  an  exile,  he 
determined  to  make  it  his  abode :  he  selected  his  burial-place ; 
forty- seven  years  elapsed;  his  thin  and  baffled  settlement  had 
become  a  flourishing  colony ;  the  principle  of  spiritual  freedom, 
so  dear  to  his  heart,  was  practically  realized  —  when,  full  of 
years  and  honor,  his  remains  were  laid  away  in  this  chosen  sepul- 
ture. 

The  Baptists  claim  Roger  Williams  as  one  of  the  founders  of 
their  church  in  America ;  but  this  claim  is  but  partially  substan- 
tiated, and  his  true  fame  is  that  of  the  stanch  advocate  of  tolera- 
tion in  New  England.  He  introduced  a  redeeming  principle  into 
the  conflict  of  sects ;  and,  amid  a  people  narrowed  and  hardened 
with  bigotry,  set  an  invaluable  example  of  forbearance  on  the  one 
hand,  and  bold  self-assertion  on  the  other.  His  name  became  a 
watchword  of  defence,  and  his  settlement  a  home  for  the  perse- 
cuted. There  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  powers  were  unmixed : 
every  citizen  was  at  liberty  to  enjoy  and  peaceably  inculcate  his 
peculiar  doctrine ;  and  the  rights  of  all  were  respected.  How 
greatly  such  a  refuge  and  champion  were  needed  is  obvious  from 
a  glance  at  the  condition  of  society  in  the  earlier  settlements. 
The  clergy  exercised  a  personal  influence  that  overshadowed  the 
community ;  they  were  jealous  of  power,  and  sternly  reprobated 
any  variance  from  their  standard  of  faith  ;  public  opinion  was 
tyrannical,  individual  aspirations  quelled,  and  private  thought 
awed.  The  opponents  of  agencies  like  those,  however  honest  and 
gentle,  were  immediately  ostracized ;  and  fortunate  was  it  that  a 
safe  retreat  for  such  victims  of  fanatical  resentment  existed  in 
Rhode  Island.  Thither  fled  the  poor  Quakers  to  escape  whipping 
and  the  gallows,  and  there  Anne  Hutchinson  and  her  disciples 
found  sympathy  and  protection.  Like  the  miniature  republic  of 
San  Marino,  and  the  constitutional  monarchy  of  Sardinia  to-day, 
was  Rhode  Island  in  the  early  colonial  times.  Without  those 
16* 


186  THE     TOLERANT     COLONIST. 

mountainous  features  which  render  part  of  the  scenerj  of  Ver- 
mont so  grand,  or  that  fertile  reach  of  meadow  through  which 
winds  the  Connecticut,  this  little  state  has  attractive  features 
which  may  well  endear  it  as  a  home  of  freedom.  The  sea  breathes 
its  most  tempered  air  upon  its  shores  ;  a  sky  as  clearly  azure  as 
that  of  Rome,  and  sunsets  as  glowing  as  those  that  warm  the 
Apennine  peaks,  characterize  the  region.  A  bracing,  yet,  for 
New  England,  singularly  mild  climate,  belongs  to  that  portion  of 
the  state  which  borders  on  the  Atlantic.  These  advantages  drew 
to  this  section  of  the  country  many  intelligent  settlers,  and  after- 
wards attached  to  it  not  a  few  illustrious  men,  whose  names  are 
now  associated  with  its  local  charms  and  noble  annals,  such  as 
Bishop  Berkeley,  Allston,  and  Malbone,  the  artists ;  Stiles  and 
Channing,  the  divines ;  Perry,  and  a  score  of  other  naval  heroes. 
While  procuring  the  charter  in  England,  Roger  Williams  was 
greatly  assisted  by  Sir  Henry  Yane,  another  glorious  spirit,  and 
subsequently  a  martyr  to  the  principles  which  his  compatriot 
established  in  America.  Acting  as  his  medium  with  the  commis- 
sioners, Vane  procured  all  the  desired  articles  of  the  charter ; 
and  Williams  dedicated  to  Lady  Yane  his  first  work,  which  was 
published  about  this  time.  An  incident  of  peculiar  interest, 
brought  to  light  by  a  letter  of  Roger  Williams  in  this  volume,  is 
his  intimacy,  when  thus  occupied  in  London,  with  Milton.  It 
appears  they  both  were  then  engaged  in  the  instruction  of  youth ; 
and  while  the  poet  enlightened  the  reformer  on  some  of  the 
niceties  of  Hebrew  and  Latin,  the  latter  gave  the  secretary  of 
Cromwell  lessons  in  the  Indian  tongues.  Thus  Williams  enjoyed 
the  sympathy  and  counsel  of  the  two  noblest  men  of  his  age, 
Milton  and  Yane,  and  was  doubtless  inspired  by  their  confidence 
to  maintain  the  rights  of  conscience  in  his  settlement.  On 
turning  thither,  after  his  successful  embassy,  he  was  greeted  at 
Seekonk  by  a  fleet  of  canoes,  and,  under  their  escort,  arrived  at 
home,  where  the  new  charter  was  read  in  public,  amid  grateful 
acclamations.  His  second  visit  to  England,  to  procure  a  renewal 
of  these  privileges,  the  revocation  of  Coddington's  charter,  and 
other  benefits  for  the  colony,  was  equally  fortunate  ;  ,the  occasion 
also  enabled  him  to  publish  other  works,  and  to  enjoy  the  society 
of  many  brave  and  wise  men  who  approved  his  noble  purposes. 


ROGER     WILLIAMS.  187 

The  daughter  of  Sir  Edward  Coke,  his  first  kind  friend  and 
patron,  treated  his  advances,  however,  with  disdain,  on  account  of 
their  diverse  religious  views;  and  the  correspondence  between 
them,  now  first  published  in  Jllton's  volume,*  exhibits,  on  her 
part,  a  lamentable  narrowness  of  soul  and  harsh  bigotry,  and,  on 
his,  a  gentleness  and  forbearance  worthy  of  his  character. 

The  hostility  of  the  elder  colony  towards  the  first  legislator  for 
liberty  of  conscience,  did  not  remit  when  he  had  passed  beyond 
its  limits.  He  was  obliged  to  go  to  New  York  to  embark  for 
England,  not  being  able  to  obtain  the  consent  of  the  Boston 
authorities  to  pass  through  their  province.  They  even  denied 
him  the  compliment  of  a  vote  of  thanks  for  his  eminent  services 
during  the  Pequot  war ;  and  when  the  states  of  New  England 
formed  a  defensive  league  against  their  common  and  savage  enemy, 
Rhode  Island  was  not  permitted  to  join.  The  policy  of  that 
infant  state  at  this  period  was,  indeed,  a  constant  reproach  to  her 
less  tolerant  but  more  prosperous  neighbor,  of  which  the  con- 
trast of  their  respective  behavior  to  the  Quakers  is  a  striking 
illustration. 

Lamartine  has  given  a  highly  dramatic  picture  of  Napoleon's 
solitary  advance  towards  the  regiment  of  Grenoble  after  his  flight 
from  Elba ;  not  less  courageous  was  the  appeal  to  savage  magna- 
nimity of  Roger  Williams,  when  he  ventured  alone  into  the  midst 
of  an  exasperated  tribe  collected  for  battle,  and,  by  the  force  of 
his  calm  and  kindly  resolution,  subdued  their  vindictive  purpose. 
Indeed,  one  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  his  career  is  his 
relation  with  the  Indians.  By  the  magnetism  of  consistent 
kindness  and  fearless  bearing,  he  won  the  confidence  and  respect 
of  those  children  of  the  forest.  Canonicus  signed  a  deed  of  the 
land  he  purchased,  and  caused  his  nephew  to  attest  it ;  thence- 
forth a  most  friendly  intercourse  subsisted  between  the  two  chiefs 
and  their  pale  guest.  The  magnanimity  of  Roger  Williams  is 
shown  in  his  effective  mediation  with  these  savage  allies,  when  a 
formidable  conspiracy  threatened  the  colony  which  had  so  igno- 
miniously  expelled  him.  In  1663  he  writes  to  Winthrop  :  '*  I 
discerned  cause  of  bestirring  myself,  and  staid  the  longer ;  and, 
at  last,  through  the  mercy  of  the  Most  High,  I  not  only  sweetened 
his  spirit,  but  possessed  him  that  the  plague  and  other  sicknesses 

*  Life  of  Roger  Williams,  by  Romeo  Elton,  D.D.,  F.  R.  P.  S. 


1^8  THE     TOLERANT     COLONIST. 

were  alone  in  the  hand  of  God."  He  is  speaking  of  Canonicus, 
and  his  delusion  that  the  English  brought  a  pestilence  among  the 
aborigines,  and  deserved,  therefore,  to  be  cut  .off.  When  the 
venerable  sachem  expired,  "Williams  compares  the  feeling  mani- 
fested by  his  tribe  and  that  of  the  Bay  colonists  at  the  funeral 
of  their  excellent  governor  :  '*  He  so  lived  and  died,  and  in  the 
same  most  honorable  manner  and  solemnity  (in  their  way)  as  you 
laid  to  sleep  your  prudent  peacemaker,  Mr.  Winthrop,  did  they 
honor  their  prudent  and  peaceable  prince."  The  romance  which 
has  been  associated  with  the  Indian  race  of  this  continent  is  fast 
vanishing.  Well-informed  writers,  intent  rather  upon  the  scien- 
tific than  poetical  view,  have  demonstrated  that,  with  much  that 
is  curious,  there  is  little  of  promise  or  beauty  in  the  nature  of 
the  red  man ;  and  nowhere  did  the  Indian  present  a  more  hope- 
less character  than  in  the  region  colonized  by  Williams.  It  is  a 
remarkable  evidence  of  their  drunken  propensity,  that  a  special 
vote  of  the  Town  Council  was  requisite  even  for  so  judicious  a  cit- 
izen as  Williams  to  supply  them  with  alcoholic  medicine.  In  the 
state  record,  it  is  noted  that  "leave  was  granted  to  Roger  Wil- 
liams to  sell  a  little  wine  or  strong  water  to  some  natives  in  case 
of  sickness."  It  was  not  by  direct  expostulation  only  that  he 
warded  off  impending  danger  from  the  other  settlements.  Through 
his  Narraganset  friends,  in  repeated  instances,  he  obtained  sea- 
sonable notice  of  the  vindictive  plans  of  other  tribes,  a'hd  gave  due 
warning;  thus,  in  the  Pequot  war,  he  prevented  an  Indian 
league,  and  saved  the  colony  from  destruction.  He  was  also  a 
mediator  between  the  Indians  themselves,  and  carried  their  peti- 
tion, "  that  they  might  not  be  forced  from  their  religion,"  ^o  the 
English  king.  These  offices  gave  him  a  strong  hold  upon  their 
sympathies;  and  we  find  in  his  correspondence  that  the  influence 
thus  acquired  was  constantly  invoked  by  those  who  had  most 
wantonly  persecuted  this  brave  messenger  of  peace.  To  his 
knowledge  of  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin,  Williams  had  now  added 
the  Indian  tongue,  of  which  he  prepared  a  key  during  his  first 
voyage  to  England.  It  was  published  in  London.  Few  of  the 
new  settlers  were  able  to  maintain  such  direct  intercourse  with  the 
natives;  and  he  endeared  himself  to  them  by  publicly  advo- 
cating  strict   payment   and   definite    boundaries    for    all   lands 


ROGER     WILLIAMS.  189 

occupied  by  the  whites,  notwithstanding  the  charter,  by  virtue 
of  which  they  were  held.  The  domain,  ceded  to  him  in  1638 
by  Canonicus,  was  given  in  consideration  of  "many  kind- 
nesses." "  Thousands  nor  tens  of  thousands  of  money,"  he 
says,  "  could  not  have  bought  of  him  an  English  entrance  into 
this  bay ;  but  I  was  the  procurer  of  that  purchase  by  the  lan- 
guage, acquaintance,  and  favor  of  the  natives,  which  it  pleased 
God  to  give  me."  This  spirit  of  justice,  however,  was  not 
relished  by  many  of  his  countrymen,  and  increased  the  unpop- 
ularity incident  to  some  of  his  opinions.  The  most  heretical  of 
these,  it  would  appear  from  the  charges  preferred  at  his  trial  at 
Boston,  in  July,  1635,  were  the  following :  "  That  the  mag- 
istrate ought  not  to  punish  the  breach  of  the  first  table  (or 
law  of  the  Sabbath)  otherwise  than  in  such  cases  as  did  disturb 
the  civil  peace ;  that  he  ought  not  to  tender  an  oath  to  an 
unregenerate  or  irreligious  man  ;  that  a  man  ought  not  to  pray 
with  such,  however  near  and  dear ;  and  that  a  man  ought 
not  to  give  thanks  after  sacrament,  nor  after  meat."  The 
authorities  "  professedly  declared  "  that  he  ought  to  be  banished 
from  the  colony  for  maintaining  the  doctrine  "  that  the  civil 
magistrate  might  not  intermeddle  even  to  stop  a  church  from 
heresy  or  apostasy  ;  "  and,  in  order  to  annoy  him,  they  refused  a 
civil  right  demanded  by  the  people  of  Salem,  because  it  came 
through  their  obnoxious  pastor.  The  cruel  decree  was  indig- 
nantly opposed  by  the  minority,  for,  says  the  historian,  "he  was 
esteemed  an  honest,  disinterested  man,  and  of  popular  talents  in 
the  pulpit." 

Of  his  mental  powers  we  have  no  means  of  judging,  except 
the  respect  and  interest  he  awakened  in  those  with  whom  he 
dwelt,  and  the  writings  he  left.  These  are  chiefly  of  a  contro- 
versial nature,  and  on  questions  which  have,  in  a  great  measure, 
lost  their  significance.  The  style,  too,  is  involved,  quaint,  and 
often  pedantic.  The  views,  however,  advocated  even  in  his 
polemic  discussions,  are  often  in  advance  of  his  time,  and  the 
sentiments  he  professes  are  noble  and  progressive.  Thus,  "  The 
Bloody  Tenent  "  is  an  earnest  plea  with  the  clergy  for  toleration ; 
and  "  A  Hireling  Ministry"  presents  bold  and  just  arguments 
in  support  of  free  churches,  and  against  an  arbitrary  system  of 


190        THE  TOLERANT  COLONIST. 

tithes.  In  the  Redwood  Library,  at  Newport,  is  a  copy  of 
''  George  Fox  digged  out  of  his  Burrows,"  a  characteristic  speci- 
men of  the  theological  hardihood  of  Williams,  as  exhibited  in  his 
controversy  with  the  Quakers.  But  it  is  from  his  original  force 
of  character,  and  his  loyalty  to  a  great  principle,  that  Roger  Wil- 
liams derives  his  claim  to  our  admiration.  His  shades  of  opinion 
are  comparatively  unimportant ;  but  the  spirit  in  which  he  worked, 
suffered,  and  triumphed,  enrols  his  name  among  the  moral  heroes 
and  benefactors  of  the  world.  His  correspondence,  not  less  than 
his  life,  evinces  the  highest  domestic  virtue,  scrupulous  fiscal 
integrity,  a  truly  forgiving  temper,  rare  tenacity  of  purpose,  and 
a  speculative  turn  of  mind.  Whatever  changes  of  opinion  he 
exhibits,  his  sentiments  are  always  consistent,  and  genuine  piety 
elevates  a  heart  nerved  by  true  courage,  and  expanded  with  gen- 
erous emotions. 

When  from  the  empyrean  of  contemplation  we  survey  the  map 
of  history,  it  is  sometimes  possible  to  trace  the  converging  lines 
of  opinion  along  the  current  of  events  until  they  unite  to  reveal 
and  actualize  truth.  Accordingly,  if  the  history  of  Toleration 
was  written  by  a  philosophic  annalist,  it  would  appear  that  a 
remarkable  coincidence,  both  of  speculation  and  action,  at  widely 
separate  points,  occurred  to  elucidate  the  great  problem.  In  such 
a  discussion,  the  life  of  Roger  Williams  would  form  a  significant 
chapter ;  and  it  would  be  noted  as  a  singular  combination,  that 
while  Coke  made  clear  and  authoritative  the  political  rights  of 
the  people,  Vane  broached  philosophical  arguments  for  republi- 
canism, and  Milton  nobly  pleaded  for  the  freedom  of  the  press  in 
England,  Roger  Williams,  their  friend  and  ally,  vindicated  religious 
toleration  in  America  ;  each  of  these  achievements  being  elements 
of  the  same  great  cause. 


THE   LITERARY   ADVENTURER 

RICHARD    SAVAGE. 


The  distinction  of  civilized  society  is,  that  human  life  is  sys- 
tematic, and  tlie  natural  effect  of  those  circumstances  which,  in 
any  degree,  except  an  individual  from  its  usual  routine  and 
responsibilities,  is  to  induce  the  impulsive  action  and  precarious 
expedients  that  belong  to  wild  races.  In  the  world  of  opinion 
and  habit  we  occasionally  see  those  who,  goaded  by  misfortune, 
or  inspired  by  an  adventurous  temper,  break  away  from  the 
restraint  which  custom  ordains,  and,  by  hardihood  in  action;  or 
extravagance  of  sentiment,  practically  isolate  themselves  from 
nearly  all  the  social  obligations  acknowledged  by  mankind. 
Indeed,  every  human  pursuit  may  be  said  to  have  its  respectable 
and  its  vagabond  followers.  In  trade,  these  extremes  are  obvious 
in  the  merchant  and  the  pedler ;  in  the  church,  we  have  the 
bishop  and  the  field-preacher ;  and  in  literature,  the  author,  who 
devotes  the  leisure  that  intervenes  between  the  care  of  his  estates 
and  the  engagements  of  fashionable  society  to  a  review,  a  poem, 
or  a  history,  and  the  man  about  town,  who  lives  by  his  wits,  and 
whose  dinner  is  contingent  upon  a  happy  epigram,  or  a  successful 
farce.  Even  when  fortune  and  rank  obtain,  natures  imbued  with 
a  vagrant  or  adventurous  spirit  will  cut  loose  from  social  bond- 
age through  mere  waywardness  or  courage,  as  if  there  were 
gypsy  blood  in  tlieir  veins,  or  the  instinct  of  heroism  or  discovery 
in  their  hearts. 

The  enthusiasm  of  misanthropy  made  Byron  a  pilgrim,  that  of 


192  THE     LITERARY     ADVENTURER. 

reform  drove  Shelley  into  exile,  and  that  of  sentiment  won  Rous- 
seau to  a  picturesque  hermitage.  How  much  of  human  conduct 
depends  upon  the  source  whence  is  derived  the  inspiration  or  the 
sanction  of  existence  !  Family  pride  leads  to  a  constant  refer- 
ence to  the  standard  of  external  honor ;  the  desiie  of  wealth,  to 
a  keen  adaptation  of  all  occasions  to  interest;  while  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  nothing  beyond  personal  resources  to  look 
to  for  advancement  or  happiness,  breeds  in  earnest  minds  an 
independence  of  mood  almost  defiant.  To  this  we  attribute,  in 
no  small  degree,  the  recklessness  of  Savage.  Every  circum- 
stance of  his  life  tended  to  encourage  self-will.  He  found 
neither  in  his  birth,  his  fortunes,  nor  the  incidents  of  his  daily 
experience,  any  vantage-ground  for  confidence.  Fate  seemed 
to  ordain  between  him  and  society  a  perpetual  enmity.  Hence 
his  dauntless  egotism.  Driven  from  the  outworks  of  life,  he  forti- 
fied the  citadel.  Sure  of  no  palladium  but  his  genius,  he  held  it 
up  as  a  shield  against  the  arrows  of  scorn,  or  thrust  it  forth  as 
an  authentic  emblem  of  his  right  to  demand  from  others  the  sat- 
isfaction of  his  wants.  Perhaps  there  is  no  instance,  if  we  except 
Benvenuto  Cellini,  of  more  ferocious  self-reliance,  or  rather  per- 
tinacity in  levying  tribute.  In  his  career  we  realize  that  the 
essential  traits  of  civilized  and  barbarian  life  may  assimilate ; 
that  refined  mental  aptitude  may  coexist  with  extreme  personal 
degradation  ;  and  that  the  support  of  existence  is  often  as  preca- 
rious, and  the  habits  of  life  as  vagrant,  in  a  Christian  metropolis, 
as  among  the  Indian  tribes  of  America,  or  the  wild  hordes  of 
the  East. 

The  genuine  literary  adventurer  is,  indeed,  a  kind  of  social 
Ishmaelite,  pitching  the  tent  of  his  convenience  as  necessity  or 
whim  suggests.  It  is  his  peculiar  destiny  to  "take  no  note  of 
time ; "  for  he  falls  into  any  incidental  scheme  of  festivity  at 
morning,  noon,  or  night,  joins  any  band  of  roysterers  he  may 
encounter,  takes  part  in  the  street-corner  discussions  of  any 
casual  knot  of  politicians,  and  is  always  ready  to  go  to  the 
theatre,  the  club,  a  private  domicile,  or  a  coiTee-house,  with  the 
first  chance-acquaintance  he  meets.  He  hangs  loose  upon  the 
skirts  of  society.  If  the  immediate  is  agreeable,  he  scorns 
change,  and  hence  will  prolong  his  social  visits  to  the  infinite 


RICHARD     SAVAGE.  193 

annoyance  of  those  who  keep  regular  hours.  Where  he  break- 
fasts, dines,  or  sleeps,  is  problematical  in  the  morning.  As  the 
itinerant  musician  goes  forth  to  win  entertainment  by  his  dulcet 
notes,  the  vagabond  man  of  genius  trusts  to  his  fund  of  clever 
stories,  his  aptitude  as  a  diner-out,  his  facility  at  pen-craft,  or  his 
literary  reputation,  to  win  upon  the  sympathies  of  some  humane 
auditor,  or  chain  the  attention  of  the  inquisitive,  and  thus  provide 
for  the  claims  of  physical  necessity. 

His  appeal  is  three-fold  —  to  the  benevolent,  the  curious,  and 
the  vain;  and,  in  a  large  city,  with  the  entrie  of  a  few  circles 
and  places  of  resort,  it  will  be,  indeed,  a  strange  hazard  that 
deprives  him  wholly  of  these  long-tried  expedients.  His  agreea- 
bility  makes  him  friends,  whom  his  indiscretions  at  length  weary ; 
but,  as  he  generally  prefers  to  do  all  the  talking  himself,  he 
gradually  ceases  to  be  fastidious,  and,  when  he  cannot  fraternize 
with  a  scholar  or  a  gentleman,  contents  himself  with  inferior 
society.  The  consciousness  of  superior  gifts  and  singular  mis- 
fortunes soon  blunts  that  delicacy  which  shrinks  from  obligation. 
He  receives  a  favor  with  the  air  of  a  man  to  whom  consideration 
is  a  birthright.  He  is,  as  Landor  says  of  woman,  more  sensitive 
than  grateful ;  borrows  money  and  books  without  a  thought  of 
returning  them;  and,  although  the  most  dependent  of  beings, 
instantly  resents  the  slightest  approach  to  dictation  as  a  per- 
sonal insult.  He  is  emphatically  what  Shakspeare  denominates  a 
"  landless  resolute  ;  "  considers  prudence  too  mean  a  virtue  for 
him  to  adopt,  and  industry  a  habit  unworthy  of  his  spirit.  His 
wits  are  his  capital,  which  he  invests  day  by  day ;  now  and  then, 
perhaps,  embarking  them  in  a  more  deliberate  venture,  by  way 
of  polishing  his  tarnished  escutcheon.  Equally  exempt  from  the 
laws  of  sentiment  and  those  of  economy,  he  makes  unconscionable 
drafts  upon  the  approbativeness  and  the  malignity  of  others,  by 
inditing  panegyrics  and  lampoons. 

A  subscription,  a  dedication,  or  a  satire,  by  awakening  the 
generosity,  the  pride,  or  the  fear  of  the  world,  alternately  supply 
the  exigencies  of  the  moment ;  while  the  utter  loss  of  self-respect 
is  prevented  by  some  occasional  effort  in  a  nobler  vein,  or  com- 
placent memories  of  past  renown.  Custom  renders  him  at  home 
everywhere  ;  address  repudiates  individual  rights :  and  a  kind  of 
17 


194  THE     LITERARY    ADVENTURER. 

happy  boldness  annihilates,  bj  a  stroke  of  humor  or  a  phrase  of 
geniality,  the  barriers  of  artificial  reserve.  He  is  the  modern 
knight-errant;  prompt  to  challenge  recognition,  and,  with  gal- 
lant bearing,  win  the  guerdon  to  which  he  aspires,  whether  it 
be  the  smile  of  beauty,  the  companionship  of  rank,  or  the  priv- 
ileges that  wealth  dispenses. 

Experience  in  shifts,  and  a  sanguine  temper  united  to  capacity 
for  reflection,  render  him  withal  a  philosopher ;  so  that,  although 
keenly  alive  to  present  enjoyment,  he  can  suffer  with  fortitude, 
and  heroically  sport  with  deprivation.  He  is  vividly  conscious 
of  what  Madame  de  Stael  declares  is  one  great  secret  of  delight 
—  its  fragility.  His  existence  is  singularly  detached  from  routine, 
and,  like  a  bird  or  a  butterfly,  he  soars  or  alights,  as  caprice  sug- 
gests —  a  chartered  adventurer,  to  whom  has  been  presented  the 
freedom  of  nature.  Leisure  gives  scope  to  his  observation  ;  need 
quickens  his  perception ;  and  the  very  uncertainty  of  subsistence 
adds  infinitely  to  the  relish  of  each  gratification.  A  voluntary 
outlaw,  he  claims  ransom  from  those  his  talents  have  made  cap- 
tive ;  regarding  himself  as  a  public  benefactor,  he  deems  society 
under  obligations  to  take  care  of  him ;  prodigal  in  his  mental 
riches,  he  despises  those  who  are  parsimonious  either  of  their  time 
or  their  hospitality ;  and  sincere  in  his  admiration,  and  perhaps  in 
his  advocacy,  of  all  that  is  magnanimous  and  beautiful,  he  learns 
to  regard  material  advantage  as  his  just  inheritance,  which 
directly  to  seek  would  obscure  the  heraldry  bestowed  by  his 
genius,  and  sanctioned  by  misfortune. 

To  him  might  be  literally  applied  Valentine's  argument  in 
Fletcher's  comedy  of  "  Wit  without  Money :" 

**  Means — 
Why,  all  good  men  's  my  means  ;  my  wit 's  my  plough. 
The  town 's  my  stock,  tavern 's  my  standing-house 
(And  all  the  world  knows  there 's  no  want)  ;  all  gentlemen 
That  love  society  love  me  ;  all  purses 
That  wit  and  pleasure  open  are  my  tenants  ; 
Every  man's  clothes  fit  me  ;  the  next  fair  lodging 
Is  but  my  next  remove  ;  and,  when  I  please 
To  be  more  eminent,  and  take  the  air, 
A  piece  is  levied,  and  a  coach  prepared. 
And  I  go  I  care  not  whither." 


RICHARD     SAVAGE.  195 

**  What 's  my  knowledge,  uncle? 
Is 't  not  worth  money  ?    What 's  my  understanding? 
Travel !  reading  !  wit !  all  these  digested  !     My  daily 
Making  men,  some  to  speak,  that  too  much  phlegm 
Had  frozen  up  ;  some,  that  spoke  too  much,  to  hold 
Their  peace,  and  put  their  tongues  to  pensions. 

Besides  these  ways  to  teach 
The  way  of  nature,  a  manly  love,  community 
To  all  that  are  deservers,  not  examining 
How  much  or  what 's  done  for  them  ;  it  is  wicked." 

It  is  peculiar  to  this  class  of  men  to  be  unconscious  of  the 
jliverse  attractions  of  talents  and  character.  Their  egotism  pre- 
vents an  habitual  recognition  of  the  important  fact  that  the  enter- 
tainment afforded  by  conversational  abilities  and  personal  sympa- 
thy are  two  very  distinct  things.  Because  their  talk  is  listened 
to  with  avidity,  their  wit  productive  of  laughter,  and  their  repu- 
tation of  deference,  they  deduce  the  erroneous  conclusion  that 
individually  and  for  themselves  an  interest  is  awakened ;  whereas, 
in  most  cases,  the  charm  is  purely  objective.  By  men  of  the 
world  genius  of  a  literary  kind  is  regarded  in  the  same  light  as 
dramatic,  artistic  and  juggling  cleverness ;  the  result  is  not  asso- 
ciated with  the  person ;  it  is  the  pastime,  not  the  man,  that  wins. 
A  conviction  so  wounding  to  self-love  is  not  easily  adopted ;  and, 
as  a  natural  consequence,  the  deluded  victims  of  social  applause 
continue,  in  spite  of  mortifying  experience,  to  look  for  a  degree 
of  consideration,  and  demand  a  sympathy,  which  it  is  absurd  to 
expect  from  any  but  the  very  liberal  and  the  naturally  kind,  who 
confessedly  form  the  exception,  not  the  rule,  in  general  society. 
Yet,  in  actors,  authors,  and. artists,  who  possess  great  self-esteem, 
this  error  is  the  rock  upon  which  the  bark  of  hope  invariably 
splits.  There  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  inevitable  blindness  in  this 
regard.  Slowly  and  by  long  degrees  comes  home  the  feeling  that 
it  is  what  the  man  of  genius  does,  not  what  he  is,  that  excites 
admiration.  When  the  pageant  of  an  hour  fades,  what  care  the 
narrow-minded  and  the  selfish  for  those  who  have  ministered  to 
their  pleasure  ?  Only  enthusiasm  lingers  and  pays  tribute ;  only 
gratitude  is  sensible  of  an  obligation  incurred ;  reverence  alone 
dreams  of  any  return,  and  conscientiousness  is  the  sole  monitor 
that  pays  the  debt. 

The  incidents  of  his  life  rather  than  the  creations  of  his  genius 


196  THE    LITERARY    ADVENTURER. 

have  preserved  the  fame  of  Savage.  His  poems  are  his  only 
writings  now  recognized,  and  we  find  them  regularly  inclmied  in 
editions  of  the  British  anthology.  It  is,  however,  but  here  and 
there,  scattered  through  a  long  array  of  heroics,  that  we  can 
detect  either  originality  or  raciness.  Like  his  life,  these  effusions 
are  crude  and  unsustained ;  they  lack  finish,  completeness,  and 
unity.  Deformed  by  coarseness,  and  sometimes  by  obscurity, 
they  often  repel  taste ;  and  their  frequent  want  of  clear  and  uni- 
form design  induces  weariness.  Their  most  genuine  interest  is^ 
personal ;  we  naturally  associate  them  with  the  misfortunes  of  the 
."uthor,  and  the  special  references  are  not  without  a  pathetic  zest. 
The  "Progress  of  a  Divine"  and  "The  Bastard,"  although 
redeemed  by  wit  and  cleverness,  are  too  grossly  indelicate  for 
general  perusal.  The  bitterness  of  the  one,  and  the  confident 
hilarity  with  which  the  other  begins,  are  very  characteristic  of  - 
Savage.  It  is  evident  that  he  possessed,  in  an  uncommon  degree, 
what  the  phrenologists  call  the  organ  of  wonder,  and  metaphys- 
ical writers  a  sense  of  the  sublime.  In  his  descriptions  of  nature 
and  life,  we  perceive  the  inspiration  of  a  reflective  ideality.  His 
couplets  occasionally  glow  with  vital  animation,  and  his  choice  of 
epithets  is  often  felicitous.  Vigor,  fluency,  and  expressiveness, 
at  times,  indicate  that  tliere  was  an  original  vein  in  his  nature, 
though  too  carelessly  worked  to  produce  a  great  and  consistent 
result.  "The  Wanderer"  is  the  poem  upon  which  he  evidently 
bestowed  the  greatest  care.  It  may  be  regarded  as  his  own  epi- 
taph, written  by  himself,  and  embodying  the  dark  phases  of  his 
career,  the  most  vivid  of  his  sensations,  and  the  beauty  of  his 
moral  sentiments,  combined  with  the  want  of  system,  the  self- 
esteem,  recklessness,  and  courage,  which  alternated  in  his  feelings 
and  conduct. 

The  following  passages  evidently  allude  to  actual  experience : 

"  Is  chance  a  guilt?  that  my  disastrous  heart. 
For  mischief  never  meant,  should  ever  smart  ? 
Can  self-defence  be  sin?    Ah,  plead  no  more  ! 
"What  though  no  purposed  malice  stain  thee  o'er  ? 
Had  Heaven  befriended  thy  unhappy  side. 
Thou  hadst  not  been  provoked,  or  thou  hadst  died." 


'*  No  mother's  care 

Shielded  my  infant  innocence  with  prayer  ; 


RICHARD    SAVAGE.  19T 

No  father's  guardian  hand  my  youth  maintained, 
Called  forth  my  virtues,  or  from  vice  restramed." 

He  learned  the  process  of  glass  manufacturing,  by  sleeping 
during  winter  nights,  when  a  vagrant,  near  the  furnaces : 

•*  Yon  limeless  sands,  loose  driving  with  the  wind, 
In  future  cauldrons  useful  textures  find. 
Till,  on  the  furnace  thrown,  the  glowing  mass 
Brightens,  and  brightening  hardens  into  glass." 

The  homeliness  of  such  lines  is  like  Crabbe,  yet  his  capacity 
for  more  polished  versification  is  shown  in  his  allusion  to  Pope, 
as  polished  and  emphatic  as  that  of  the  master  rhymer  himself: 

*•  Though  gay  as  mirth,  as  curious  though  sedate. 
As  elegance  polite,  as  power  elate, 
Profound  as  reason,  and  as  justice  clear. 
Soft  as  compassion,  and  as  truth  severe ; 
As  bounty  copious,  as  persuasion  sweet. 
Like  nature  various,  and  like  art  complete, 
So  firm  her  morals,  so  sublime  her  views. 
His  life  is  almost  equalled  by  his  muse." 

In  metaphor,  also.  Savage  is  effective.  Thus  he  compares  the 
'•steamy  currents"  at  morning  twilight  to  "veins  blue  winding 
on  a  fair  one's  arm ; "  and,  of  a  river  hidden  in  umbrage,  observes : 

•*  Yet,  at  one  point,  winds  out  in  silver  state. 
Like  virtue  from  a  labyrinth  of  fate." 

He  calls  shells  "tinctured  rivals  of  the  showery  bow;"  and, 
describing  a  vast  prospect,  says  : 

"  The  herds  seem  insects  in  the  distant  glades. 
And  men  diminished  as,  at  noon,  their  shades." 

His  adjectives  are  sometimes  very  graphic,  however  inelegant ; 
he  speaks  of  warming  himself  at  "  chippy  fires,"  and,  detailing  a 
repast,  informs  us, 

"  That  o'er  a  homely  board  a  napkin 's  spread, 
Crowned  with  a  heapy  canister  of  bread." 

The  gleams  of  high  sentiment  that,  like  flashes  of  heat-light- 
ning from  a  dense  cloud,  emanate  from  Savage,  are  refreshing, 
and  justify  his  biographer's  tribute  to  his  better  nature.  Self- 
indulgent  as  he  was,  he  declares  that 

17* 


198  THE    LITERARY    ADVENTURER. 

*'  Reason's  glory  is  to  quell  desire." 

Although  he  obviously  is  in  his  element  when 

"  In  gay  converse  glides  the  festive  hour," 

he  yet  recognizes  a  providence  in  affliction : 

"  Why  should  I  then  of  private  loss  complain, 
Of  loss  that  proves,  perchance,  a  brother's  gain  ? 
The  wind  that  binds  one  bark  within  the  bay, 
May  waft  a  richer  freight  its  wished-for  way. 
Man's  bliss  is  like  his  knowledge,  but  surmised, 
One  ignorance,  the  other  pain  disguised. 
"When  seeking  joy,  we  seldom  sorrow  miss. 
And  often  misery  points  the  path  to  bliss. 
Know,  then,  if  ills  oblige  thee  to  retire. 
Those  ills  solemnity  of  thought  inspire.** 

The  following  random  extracts  betray  a  vivid  consciousness  of 
his  own  fate  and  tendencies : 

"  False  pride !  what  vices  on  our  conduct  steal  * 

From  the  world's  eye  one  frailty  to  conceal  ! 

Ye  cruel  mothers  !  soft !  those  words  command  ! 

So  near  shall  cruelty  and  mother  stand  ? 

Can  the  dove's  bosom  snaky  venom  draw? 

Can  her  foot  sharpen  like  the  vulture's  claw?  " 

«  «  *  « 

**  Loosed  to  the  world's  wide  range,  enjoined  no  aim, 

Prescribed  no  duty,  and  assigned  no  name. 

Nature's  unbounded  son,  he  stands  alone. 

His  heart  unbiased,  and  his  mind  his  own.'* 

*  «  *  • 
"  From  ties  maternal,  moral,  and  divine. 

Discharged  my  gasping  soul  ;  pushed  me  from  shore. 
And  launched  me  into  life  without  an  oar." 
«  •  •  « 

"  Bom  to  himself,  by  no  profession  led. 
In  freedom  fostered,  and  by  fortune  fed. 
Nor  guides,  nor  rules,  his  sovereign  choice  control. 
His  body  independent  as  his  soul." 

*  *  »  » 
"  Inly  secure,  though  conscious  soon  of  illy 

JVor  taught  by  wisdom  how  to  balance  will. 

Rashly  deceived,  I  saw  no  pits  to  shun. 

But  thought  to  purpose  and  to  act  were  one.** 

That  we  have  not  exaggerated  the  prominent  claim  of  Savage 
to  represent  the  literary  adventurer,  a  glance  at  the  account  of 


RICHARD     SAVAGE.  199 

him  by  Johnson  —  the  most  remarkable  and  original  of  his 
"Lives  of  the  Poets  "  —  will,  at  once,  evidence.  We  are  thert 
told  that,  "when  a  guest,  he  "  could  neither  be  persuaded  to  go  to 
bed  at  night,  or  rise  by  day  ;  "  that  "  he  considered  himself  dis- 
charged, by  the  first  quarrel,  from  all  ties  of  honor  and  grati- 
tude;" that  "  when  he  loved  a  man,  he  suppressed  all  his  faults, 
and,  when  he  had  been  offended  by  him,  suppressed  all  his 
virtues;"  "always  asked  favors  without  the  least  submission 
or  apparent  consciousness  of  dependence  ; "  "  purchased  the  lux- 
ury of  a  night  by  the  anguish  of  cold  and  hunger  for  a  week  ;  " 
"though  he  scarcely  ever  found  a  stranger  whom  he  did  not  often 
leave  a  friend,  he  had  not  often  a  friend  long,  without  obliging 
him  to  become  a  stranger ;  "  and  that  "  the  reigning  error  of  his 
life  was  that  he  mistook  the  love  for  the  practice  of  virtue." 

We  could  easily  multiply  well  authenticated  instances  of  tlio 
foibles  and  the  inconsiderateness,  the  casual  triumphs  and  low 
expedients,  that  doomed  him  to  vibrate  "  between  beggary  and 
extravagance."  To  indicate  the  relative  value  he  attached  to  his 
inware  resources  and  his  outward  obligations,  a  few  anecdotes 
will  suffice.  While  an  inmate  of  Lord  Tyrconnel's  family,  he 
sold  several  books  which  his  host  had  presented  him,  with  his 
lordship's  arms  stamped  upon  them ;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
betrayed  the  most  fastidious  and  even  "superstitious  regard  to 
the  correction  of  his  proof-sheets."  While  on  the  most  intimate 
and  friendly  terms  with  Dennis,  he  wrote  an  epigram  against 
him  ;  and  when  his  friends,  their  patience  quite  exhausted,  con- 
tributed to  secure  him  a  permanent  retreat  in  the  country,  he 
indulged  in  the  most  illusive  dreams  of  rural  felicity,  and  before 
he  was  half-way  on  the  road  to  Wales,  sent  back  to  London  for 
new  supplies,  which  he  soon  expended  among  pleasant  compan- 
ions in  Bristol,  whose  keen  appreciation  of  his  social  qualities 
induced  a  versified  comparison  of  their  merits  with  those  of  his 
London  protectors,  by  no  means  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter, 
notwithstanding  his  recent  obligations.  The  reverse  of  Dominie 
Sampson,  he  was  very  scornful  at  the  ided  of  new  habiliments 
being  furnished  him  without  the  intervention  of  his  own  taste 
and  authority.  The  mortification  of  illegitimacy  was  solaced  by 
that  of  noble  blood  and  the  advantages  he  traced  to  "  the  lusty 


200  THE     LITERARY    ADVENTURER. 

stealth  of  nature."  Scenes  of  profligacy,  social  ostracism,  and  a 
criminal  trial,  utterly  failed  in  undermining  a  "steady  confidence 
in  his  own  capacity  ;  "  while  he  only  regarded  poverty  as  an  evil 
from  the  contempt  it  is  apt  to  engender  ;  and  he  always  thought 
himself  justified  in  resenting  neglect  "  without  attempting  to 
force  himself  into  regard."  Such  a  combination  of  traits,  devel- 
oped under  extraordinary  vicissitudes,  completely  illustrates  the 
spirit  of  literary  adventure,  and  the  perversity  of  unregulated 
talent. 

Yet  this  dark  biographical  picture,  gloomy  as  one  of  Spagno- 
Ictto's  martyrdoms,  is  not  without  mellow  tints,  nor  its  hard  out- 
lines unrelieved  by  touches  of  humanity.  Upon  his  first  discov- 
ery of  a  mother's  naiiie  and  existence,  revealed  to  him  by  several 
documents  found  among  the  effects  of  his  deceased  nurse,  the 
heart  of  Savage  awakened  to  all  the  latent  tenderness  inspired  by 
a  new-born  affection.  It  was  his  habit,  long  after  the  determined 
repulse  of  his  unnatural  parent  had  quenched  the  hope  of  recog- 
nition, to  walk  to  and  fro  before  her  house,  in  the  twilight,  amply 
compensated  if,  through  his  tears,  he  could  obtain  but  a  glimpse 
of  her  robe  as  she  passed  near  the  window,  or  see  the  gleam  of  a 
candle  in  her  chamber.  At  the  period  of  his  greatest  want  and 
highest  mental  activity,  ho  composed  while  perambulating  a  ver- 
dant square,  or  retired  mall,  and  then  entered  a  shop,  asked  for 
a  scrap  of  paper,  and  noted  down  his  conceptions.  In  this  man- 
ner he  is  said  to  have  written  an  entire  tragedy ;  and  certainly 
few  instances  of  resolute  authorship  in  the  grasp  of  poverty  can 
equal  its  touching  fortitude. 

His  speech  to  the  court,  when  arraigned  for  sentence  after 
being  convicted  of  homicide,  is  said  to  have  been  manly  and  elo- 
quent, and  certainly  won  for  him  great  sympathy  and  respect. 
There  must  have  been  something  in  his  character  that  inspired 
esteem,  as  well  as  in  his  fortunes  to  kindle  compassion,  from  the 
interest  so  frequently  excited  and  patiently  manifested  in  his 
behalf  by  individuals  widely  separated  in  position  and  opinions. 
In  some  instances,  too,  the  independence  of  his  nature  exhibited 
itself  in  a  noble  manner.  The  spirited  letter  which  he  addressed 
to  a  friend  from  the  prison  at  Bristol,  where  he  was  incarcerated 
for  debt,  and  so  drearily  terminated  his  eventful  career,  is  a  fine 


RICHARD     SAVAGE.  201 

example  of  self-respect  and  elevation  of  sentiment.  Hunt  justly 
remarks,  in  his  notice  of  the  once  celebrated  Mrs.  OWfield,  that 
her  annuity  to  Savage  gave  posterity  a  liking  for  her  ;  and  Dr. 
Johnson  assures  us  that  the  subject  of  his  remarkable  memoir, 
when  banished  from  London,  parted  from  him  with  tears  in  his 
eyes. 

Indeed,  the  phases  of  character  and  the  actual  experiences  of 
Savage,  if  analyzed  and  dramatically  unfolded  by  a  thoroughly 
sympathetic  delineator,  would  afford  a  most  fruitful  theme. 
Imagine  it  handled  by  Dickens,  in  his  best  vein :  we  should  have 
night-wanderings  as  forlorn  as  those  of  little  Nell  and  her  grand- 
father, a  trial  scene  more  effective  than  that  of  Barnaby  Rudge, 
jollities  eclipsing  those  of  Dick  Swiveller,  and  reveries  more 
grandly  pathetic  than  the  death-bed  musings  of  Paul  Dombey. 
For  accessories  his  acknowledged  relation  to  the  nobility  and  his 
intimate  association  with  the  men  of  talent  of  the  day  would  fur- 
nish ample  scope ;  for  so  notorious  was  his  story  at  the  time,  that 
Macaulay,  in  his  "  History  of  England,"  says  that  Earl  Rivers 
is  remembered  chiefly  on  account  of  his  illegitimate  son ;  and  the 
Countess  of  Macclesfield,  brazen  as  was  her  temper,  was  obliged 
to  fly  from  Bath  to  escape  the  observation  of  fashionable  crowds 
induced  by  the  satirical  poem  of  Savage,  called  "  The  Bastard." 

Prompted  by  that  love  of  excitement  which  becomes  the  ruling 
impulse  of  the  improvident  and  forlorn,  Savage  went  forth  one 
night  from  his  obscure  lodgings  in  search  of  profitable  meditation, 
a  boon  companion,  or  a  lucky  adventure.  There  was  in  his  elon- 
gated and  rough  face  a  sad  expression  that  indicated  habitual 
melancholy;  not  the  resigned  air  of  meek  endurance,  nor  the 
gravity  of  stern  fortitude,  but  that  dark,  brooding  pensiveness 
which  accompanies  undisciplined  passions  and  a  desolate  exist- 
ence. There  was,  however,  a  redeeming  dignity  in  his  measured 
gait,  and  an  unsteady  accent  in  his  voice  as  he  soliloquized,  that 
would  have  "  challenged  pity"  in  a  sensitive  observer. 

He  entered  a  tavern  —  an  accustomed  haunt,  where  convivi- 
ality had  often  beguiled  him  of  "  the  thing  he  was."  The  sight 
^f  one  or  two  familiar  faces,  and  the  anticipation  of  a  jolly  even- 
ing, changed,  at  once,  the  mood  of  the  homeless  wit.  That  coarse 
exterior  suddenly  wore  a  milder  aspect ;  that  solemn  air  gave  way 


202     THE  LITERARY  ADVENTURER. 

to  abandon ;  and,  all  at  once,  he  looked  like  a  man  ready  to 
"flit  the  time  lightly,"  and  ''rouse  the  night-owl  with  a  catch.'* 
It  was  thoughtfulness  eclipsed  by  good  fellowship  —  Hamlet 
transformed  into  Sir  Toby  Belch.  The  carousal  brought  on  the 
hour  of  feverish  reaction,  and  the  party  at  length  sallied  out  to 
breathe  the  fresh  air,  and  vent  their  superfluous  merriment. 
Attracted  by  a  light  that  gleamed  from  another  house  of  enter- 
tainment, they  entered,  and  unceremoniously  disturbed  a  group 
already  in  possession.  High  words  arose,  swords  were  unsheathed, 
and  when  the  morning  dawned,  Savage  found  himself  a  prisoner 
awaiting  trial  for  murder.  At  this  crisis  of  his  fate,  with  the 
ban  of  the  law  impending,  amid  the  solitude  of  captivity,  how 
must  the  events  of  his  life  have  passed  in  gloomy  succession 
before  his  mind,  and  what  desperate  emotion  must  the  retrospect 
have  engendered ! 

We  can  scarcely  imagine  a  more  contradictory  and  pathetic 
story  invented  by  fiction.  The  illegitimate  offspring  of  a  countess 
and  an  earl,  brought  up  by  a  hireling,  taken  from  St.  Albans 
grammar-school  in  boyhood  to  be  apprenticed  to  a  shoemaker ; 
cut  off"  by  an  infamous  falsehood  from  the  inheritance  assigned 
him  by  his  father ;  accidentally  discovering  his  birth  only  to 
become  the  object  of  relentless  maternal  persecution ;  with  the 
loss  of  his  nurse,  cast  adrift  upon  the  world  and  forced  into 
authorship  to  escape  starvation,  and  now  only  with  the  prospect  of 
an  ignominious  death  incurred  in  a  tavern  brawl ;  what  incen- 
tives his  memory  could  furnish  to  remorse  and  despair !  His 
whole  experience  was  anomalous.  Of  noble  origin,  yet  the  fre- 
quent associate  of  felons  and  paupers ;  with  a  mother  for  his  most 
bitter  enemy,  and  the  slayer  of  one  who  never  offended  him ;  long 
accustomed  to  luxury,  yet  finding  his  best  comfort  in  a  jail ;  con- 
scious of  superior  abilities,  yet  habituated  to  degrading  expedi- 
ents ;  his  written  life  touching  the  hearts  of  thousands,  while  his 
actual  condition  annoyed  more  often  than  it  interested ;  the  guest 
of  a  wealthy  lord,  the  confidant  of  men  of  genius,  the  intimate 
of  Wilkes  and  Steele,  and  the  cynosure  of  many  select  circles  in 
London  and  Bristol,  he  sometimes  famished  for  want  of  nourish- 
ment, and  "  slept  on  bulks  in  summer  and  in  glass-houses  in  the 
winter."     From  the  king  he  received  a  pardon,  after  being  con- 


RICHARD    SAVAGE.  203 

(lemned  to  the  gallows,  and  from  a  fashionable  actress  a  pension ; 
the  queen's  volunteer-laureate,  he  died  in  a  prison-cell,  and  was 
buried  at  the  expense  of  the  jailer.  The  records  of  human  vicis- 
situde have  few  more  painful  episodes ;  the  plots  of  few  trage- 
dies boast  more  pathetic  material ;  and  the  legacies  of  genius,  to 
those  who  explore  them  to  analyze  character  and  trace  the  influ- 
ence of  experience  upon  mental  development,  rarely  offer  the 
adventurous  and  melancholy  interest  that  is  associated  with  the 
name  of  Richard  Savage.  He  is  the  type  of  reckless  talent,  the 
ideal  of  a  literary  vagabond,  the  synonym  for  an  unfortunate  wit. 
In  his  history  the  adventures  of  hack-writers  reach  their  acme ; 
and  his  consciousness  embraced  the  vital  elements  of  dramatic 
experience,  the  internal  light  of  fancy  and  reflection,  and  the 
external  shade  of  appalling  fact. 


THE  NATIONAL  ECONOMIST 

DE  WITT  CLINTON. 


The  leaders  of  opinion  and  men  of  executive  genius,  in  all 
nations  and  eras,  sustain  an  inevitable  relation  to  their  age ;  and 
it  is  a  curious  study  to  investigate  how  circumstances  of  time  and 
place  modify  their  activity.  The  memories  of  Westminster  have 
enshrined  the  oratorical  triumphs  of  Fox,  Pitt,  and  Burke,  and 
their  agency  on  public  sentiment  is  woven  into  the  very  texture 
of  England's  political  annals ;  while  the  monuments  and  galleries 
of  Florence  bear  witness  to  the  dominant  taste  for  art  which  was 
fostered  by  Lorenzo  de  Medici.  In  a  young  republic  whose  ma- 
terial progress  is  without  example,  the  evidence  of  patriotic  self- 
devotion  is  continually  obliterated  by  the  advancing  tide  of  civil- 
ization, radical  improvements  are  superseded  by  new  inventions, 
and  it  is  often  a  difficult  task  to  recall  to  grateful  recognition  the 
labors  and  triumphs  of  national  benefactors.  The  insatiable  pres- 
ent renders  men  oblivious  of  the  past ;  the  inviting  future  pre- 
cludes retrospection.  Yet,  to  those  alive  to  local  history  and  the 
origin  of  great  practical  ideas,  daily  observation  keeps  fresh  the 
memory  of  Clinton  in  his  native  state.  As  a  stranger  enters  her 
unrivalled  bay,  he  sees  in  the  fortified  Narrows  a  proof  of  his 
patriotic  forethought ;  in  an  afternoon  excursion  the  Bloomingdale 
Asylum  and  Sailor's  Snug  Harbor,  whose  endowment  he  secured, 
bear  witness  to  his  benevolent  enterprise ;  while  the  grand  sys- 
tems of  public  instruction,  of  mutual  insurance,  of  internal  naviga- 
tion, of  savings-banks,  reform  of  the  criminal  law,  and  agricultural 


DE    WITT     CLINTON.  205 

improvement,  however  modified  by  the  progress  of  science,  con- 
stantly attest  the  liberal  and  wise  polity  which  under  his  guidance 
gave  them  birth. 

Born  on  the  second  of  March,  1769,  and  dying  on  the  eleventh 
of  February,  1828,  De  Witt  Clinton  entered  upon  life  when  the 
contest  between  the  two  original  parties  under  the  Federal  gov- 
ernment was  at  its  height,  and  closed  his  existence  at  the  epoch 
of  their  virtual  dissolution.  By  inheritance  and  sympathy  he 
ardently  espoused  one  class  of  opinions,  and  experienced  the  mod- 
ifications of  political  sentiment  incident  to  the  course  of  events 
and  the  development  of  the  nation.  He  became  one  of  the  gladi- 
ators in  the  civic  arena,  when  state  rights,  foreign  influence,  and 
a  thousand  exciting  questions,  agitated  the  land.  It  is  not  our 
purpose  to  review  his  political  career,  to  recall  the  misrepresenta- 
tion, ingratitude,  and  insult,  of  which  he  was  the  victim,  or  to 
trace  the  tortuous  current  of  alternate  proscription  and  idolatry 
that  bore  him  over  the  changeful  sea  of  party  strife.  The  same 
battle,  in  divers  forms,  is  continually  fought,  and  its  chief  inci- 
dents belong  to  the  history  of  contemporary  opinion.  Like  all 
aspirants,  he  was  baffled  ;  like  all  chiefs,  envied ;  like  all  loyal 
men,  persecuted.  In  an  impartial  estimate  of  his  character,  it  is 
sufficient  proof  of  his  integrity  that  it  was  never  successfully 
assailed ;  of  his  patriotism,  that  it  was  ultimately  recognized ;  of 
his  republicanism,  that  his  faith  in  the  people  never  faltered ;  of 
his  magnanimity,  that  he  forgave  injury ;  and  of  his  statesman- 
ship, tliat  it  was  victorious.  Doubtless,  a  want  of  flexibility,  a 
temper  too  dictatorial,  a  power  of  invective  sometimes  unchas- 
tened,  and  an  extreme  tenacity  of  personal  conviction,  led  him 
into  errors.  But  now  that  the  storm  has  passed  away,  his  traits 
are  reflected  in  noble  relief  upon  the  calm  horizon,  visible  to  the 
eyes  of  posterity.  The  test  of  time  has  proved  the  sterling  qual- 
ities of  the  man,  and  we  impatiently  scatter  the  web  of  intrigue 
and  the  mist  of  prejudice,  to  contemplate  only  those  characteristic 
services  that  planted  his  star  forever  in  the  galaxy  of  our  coun- 
try's firmament. 

The  domestic  antecedents  of  De  Witt  Clinton  w^ere  favorable  to 
the  inheritance  both  of  energetic  character  and  of  public  spirit. 
His  name  is  of  Norman  origin,  and  is  often  cited  by  the  old 
18 


206  THE    NATIONAL    ECONOMIST. 

French  chroniclers  of  knightly  achievements.  Among  his  imme- 
diate ancestors  was  a  Royalist  cadet,  one  of  the  Continental 
refugees  after  the  civil  war,  who,  on  the  restoration  of  the  house 
of  Stuart,  experienced  its  faithless  ingratitude.  The  son  of  this 
progenitor  vainly  sought  to  regain  the  estates  forfeited  by  the 
loyalty  of  his  exiled  father,  who  died  in  Ireland ;  nor  were  the 
family  misfortunes  retrieved  by  the  next  generation,  for  Charles 
Clinton,  in  the  prime  of  his  life,  resolved  to  emigrate  to  America. 
With  a  view  to  pastoral  advantages,  he  made  choice  of  that  fertile 
district  of  Orange  County,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  whose 
grassy  acres  still  supply  the  best  products  of  the  dairy.  Here 
his  superior  intelligence  gave  him  the  lead  in  social  life  among 
the  isolated  band  that  formed  the  infant  colony ;  and  on  the  fron- 
tier and  fortified  farm,  sixty  miles  from  the  city,  the  father  of 
De  Witt  Clinton  was  born.  Thus,  by  a  sad  experience  of  king- 
craft and  the  discipline  of  primitive  colonial  life,  was  our  young 
statesman  nurtured  in  patriotic  self-reliance,  while  his  ancestral 
qualities  were  enriched  by  the  old  Dutch  blood  of  his  mother's 
race.  Sprung  from  educated  and  loyal,  adventurous  and  bravo 
progenitors,  he  entered  upon  life  early  enough  to  witness  the  sac- 
rifices which  acquired  freedom  for  his  country ;  and  first  beheld 
the  city  whose  glory  he  was  destined  to  promote,  when  the  inhab- 
itants were  giving  expression  to  their  joy  on  the  departure  of  the 
British  troops.  Already  the  name  of  Clinton  was  honorably 
identified  with  military  and  civic  life  in  America,  oflScei:s  of  his 
family  having  served  in  the  French  and  Revolutionary  wars,  and 
associated  their  names  with  the  capture  of  Fort  Frontenac,  with 
the  Indian  battles  in  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk,  with  the  sur- 
render of  Cornwallis,  and  subsequently  with  the  government  of 
the  state.  Public  duty,  courage,  and  self-sacrifice,  were  house- 
hold words  in  the  settlement  where  his  childhood  was  passed ; 
historical  events  were  his  nursery  tales ;  and  when,  having  ex- 
hausted the  educational  privileges  of  his  native  county  and  passed 
some  months  at  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  he  sought  for  aca- 
demic culture  in  the  metropolis  of  his  own  state,  the  application 
was  the  signal  for  recombining  the  apparatus  of  learning  dis- 
persed by  war,  and  baptizing  anew  the  University  of  New  York 
with  the  title  of  an  emancipated  country.     With  the  advent  of 


DE     WITT     CLINTON.  207 

De  Witt  Clinton  as  a  pupil,  the  fortunes  of  King's,  now  Colum- 
bia, College  revived  ;  and  it  might  seem  prophetic  of  his  future 
relation  to  the  cause  of  learning  and  civil  advancement,  that  he 
was  the  first  graduate  of  that  institution  after  it  became  American 
both  in  name  and  in  principles. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  germs  of  political  science  were 
planted  in  Clinton's  mind  by  the  lectures  of  Dr.  Kemp,  his  col- 
lege preceptor ;  but  they  were  developed  by  the  exigencies  and 
opportunities  of  his  subsequent  career.  He  had  scarcely  com- 
pleted his  law  studies,  when  the  accidental  death  of  his  brother, 
who  was  private  secretary  to  Governor  Clinton,  led  to  his  accept- 
ance of  the  ofiice.  Thus  early  was  he  initiated  as  a  political  stu- 
dent. To  promote  his  uncle's  reelection,  he  became  a  writer  for 
the  journals  of  the  day,  and  soon  acquired  rare  power  and  readi- 
ness in  that  capacity.  He  reported  the  debates  of  the  convention 
that  discussed  the  new  constitution ;  and  while  a  mere  youth,  by 
the  demands  upon  his  recognized  ability  and  the  promise  of  his 
character,  he  became  the  chief  of  a  volunteer  military  corps,  and 
a  harbor  commissioner.  "When  his  kinsman  was  defeated  at  the 
polls,  and  the  Federal  party  triumphed,  there  was  a  pause  in  his 
official  life,  during  which  his  love  of  the  natural  sciences  found 
scope ;  but  no  sooner  did  his  own  party  predominate,  than  he  was 
elected  successively  state  representative  and  senator.  United 
States  senator,  mayor  of  the  city  and  governor  of  the  state  of 
New  York  —  posts  whose  functions  were  then  more  important 
and  responsible  than  at  present.  The  mere  outline  of  his  official 
honors  gives  no  idea  of  what  he  made  the  career  of  a  public  ser- 
vant. In  each  station  he  exhibited  a  vigor  of  action,  a  wise  pol- 
ity, and  a  social  influence,  quite  original  and  of  rare  efficiency ; 
in  each  be  illustrated  the  prerogatives  of  statesmanship,  —  in 
congressional  debate  winning;  from  his  noble  rival,  Gouverneur 
Morris,  an  honest  admiration  that  rose  above  the  virulence  of 
partisan  dislike  ;  in  municipal  rule,  by  memorable  judicial  decis- 
ions and  the  courageous  exercise  of  his  magistracy,  eliciting  the 
ardent  praise  of  the  most  eminent  jurists,  and  the  spontaneous 
trust  of  his  fellow-citizens.  Diplomatic  skill,  philosophical 
insight,  heroic  purpose,  generous  aims,  and  legal  acumen,  were 
so  manifest  in  his  administration  of  every  office,  however  limited 


208  THE     NATIONAL     ECONOMIST. 

or  temporary  its  character,  as  to  demonstrate  that,  under  free 
institutions,  it  is  not  the  rank  but  the  use  of  office  which  makes 
it  illustrious.  In  support  of  this  view  we  might  cite  his  new 
inspection  of  wheat,  that  soon  raised  its  market  value,  his  speech 
against  war  with  Spain,  his  negotiations  with  the  French  and 
English  men-of-war  in  the  waters  of  New  York  to  preserve  neu- 
trality, his  condemnation  of  the  turbulent  and  highly  connected 
students  tried  before  him,  his  repeal  of  the  acts  intolerant  to 
Catholics,  the  charters  he  secured  for  the  Fur  Company,  the 
Academy  of  Arts,  and  the  Manumission  Society,  his  moral  courage 
in  repudiating  an  act  intended  to  mar  the  freedom  of  debate,  his 
personal  devotion  to  the  establishment  of  the  first  free  school,  and 
his  exertions  in  rescuing  from  unhallowed  neglect  the  bones  of 
the  prison-ship  martyrs. 

It  is  one  of  the  penalties  exacted  by  official  life  that  its  votary 
is  obliged  to  expend  the  highest  gifts  of  his  nature  upon  objects 
which,  however  important  as  parts  of  a  series,  leave  few  perma- 
nent memorials.  The  artist  or  the  author  bequeaths  a  picture, 
statue,  or  book,  in  which  are  embodied  his  aspirations  and  the 
spirit  he  was  of;  but  the  active  intelligence  of  the  statesman  is 
usually  so  exclusively  devoted  to  administrative  duties,  as  to 
leave  no  time  for  the  finished  record  of  his  genius.  The  life  that 
occupied  so  large  a  space  in  the  public  eye,  the  name  that  was 
on  every  lip,  seems  to  pass  away  with  the  funeral  pageant  and 
the  tearful  eulogy.  In  the  archives  of  an  historical  soqiety  the 
curious  explorer  finds  in  a  fragmentary  shape  the  writings  which, 
a  few  years  before,  were  the  charts  of  opinion  over  which  fiery 
partisans  Avrangled  and  ardent  champions  exulted.  The  docu- 
mentary history  of  De  Witt  Clinton's  life  bears  ample  evidence 
of  his  varied  learning,  his  large  discourse  of  reason,  his  broad 
views,  and  his  unwearied  activity.  It  comprises  orations  before 
philosophical  and  benevolent  societies,  speeches,  reports,  letters, 
journals,  and  messages  to  the  legislature.  It  attests  facility  as  a 
writer,  versatile  knowledge,  and  earnestness  of  purpose,  embracing 
discussions  of  questions  of  policy,  data  for  the  naturalist  and 
historian,  and  systematic  digests  of  studies  in  almost  every  depart- 
ment of  scientific,  literary,  and  political  inquiry.  Much  of  the 
significance  of  these  papers  is,  however,  lost,  through  the  progress 


DE     WITT      CLINTON.  209 

of  events  and  the  diffusion  of  knowledge.  Orators  have  multiplied 
since  his  day,  and  many  able  legislators  have  won  reputation  in 
the  same  fields;  yet  these  incidental  writings  are  valuable  for 
reference,  and  interesting  as  the  literary  exposition  of  a  noble 
character.  The  Address  before  the  Philosophical  Society,  the 
Discourse  on  the  Iroquois,  and  the  Letters  of  Hibernicus,  arc 
valuable  illustrations  of  the  habits  of  research,  the  intellectual 
tastes,  the  powers  of  observation,  and  the  impressive  style,  of  a  man 
whose  life  was  mainly  occupied  with  executive  duties,  and  whose 
fame  is  eminently  that  of  a  practical  statesman.  It  is  delightful 
to  cite,  after  the  lapse  of  fifty  years,  his  eloquent  defence  of 
literature  and  science  as  elements  of  a  wise  policy, —  to  hear  him 
glory  in  the  memories  of  Hunter  and  Burnett,  the  educated 
provincial  governors  of  his  native  state,  advocate  the  need  of  a 
knowledge  of  the  past  in  order  to  reap  the  fruits  of  the  present, 
and  designate  the  advantages,  both  natural  and  civil,  offered  in 
this  country  to  the  votary  of  science  and  letters.  It  is  equally 
pleasing  to  follow  his  ethnological  investigations  of  the  savage 
tribe  that  once  possessed  the  fair  domain  around  him,  and  to  share 
the  patriotic  zest  with  which  he  examines  its  soil,  forests,  and 
watei*s,  to  fix  tlie  nomenclature  of  their  varied  products.  He 
anticipated,  by  hints  of  projects  such  as  Be  Foe's  famous  essay 
bequeathed  to  posterity,  many  of  the  subsequent  victories  of  prac- 
tical science,  when  he  declared  that  "  here  the  hand  of  art  will 
change  the  face  of  the  universe,  and  the  prejudices  of  country 
will  vanish  before  the  talisman  of  merit;"  that  '^  it  will  not  be 
debated  whether  hills  shall  be  perforated,  but  whether  the  Alps 
and  the  Andes  shall  be  levelled ;  not  whether  sterile  fields  shall 
be  fertilized,  but  whether  the  deserts  of  Africa  shall  feel  the 
power  of  cultivation;  not  whether  rivers  shall  be  joined,  but 
whether  the  Caspian  shall  see  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  waves 
of  the  Pacific  shall  lave  the  Atlantic  shores." 

The  account  of  his  exploration  of  Western  New  York,  which 
originally  appeared  in  one  of  the  journals  of  the  day,  offers  a 
wonderful  contrast  to  our  familiar  experience.  Then,  to  use  his 
own  lanojuaire,  "  the  stage-driver  was  a  leadinoj  beau,  and  the 
keeper  of  a  turnpike-gate  a  man  of  consequence."  Our  three 
hours'  trip  from  New  York  to  Albany  was  a  voyage,  occupying 
18* 


2X0  THE     NATIONAL     ECONOMIST. 

ten  times  that  period.  At  Albany  stores  were  laid  in,  and  each 
member  of  the  commission  provided  himself  with  a  blanket,  as 
caravans,  in  our  time,  are  equipped  at  St.  Louis  for  an  expedition 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Here  they  breakfast  at  a  toll-keeper's, 
there  they  dine  on  cold  ham  at  an  isolated  farm-house ;  now  they 
mount  a  baggage- wagon,  and  now  take  to  a  boat  too  small  to 
admit  of  sleeping  accommodations,  which  leads  them  constantly 
to  regret  their  "  unfortunate  neglect  to  provide  marquees  and 
camp-stools ; "  and  more  than  six  weeks  are  occupied  in  a  journey 
which  now  does  not  consume  as  many  days.  Yet  the  charm  of 
patient  observation,  the  enjoyment  of  nature,  and  the  gleanings 
of  knowledge,  caused  what,  in  our  locomotive  era,  would  seem  a 
tedious  pilgrimage,  to  be  fraught  with  a  pleasure  and  advantage 
of  which  our  flying  tourists  over  modern  railways  never  dream. 
We  perceive  by  the  comparison  that  Avhat  has  been  gained  in 
speed  is  often  lost  in  rational  entertainment.  The  traveller  who 
leaves  New  York  in  the  morning,  to  sleep  at  night  under  the 
roar  of  Niagara,  has  gathered  nothing  in  the  magical  transit  but 
dust,  fatigue,  and  the  risk  of  destruction ;  while,  in  that  deliberate 
progress  of  the  canal  enthusiast,  not  a  phase  of  tbo  landscape,  not 
an  historical  association,  not  a  fruit,  mineral,  oit:^ower,  was  lost 
to  his  view.  He  recognizes  the  benign  provision  of  Nature  for 
sugar,  so  far  from  the  tropics,  by  the  sap  of  the  maple ;  and  for 
salt,  at  such  a  distance  from  the  ocean,  by  the  lakes  tliat  hold  it 
in  solution  near  Syracuse.  At  Geddesburg  he  recalls  the  valor 
of  the  Iroquois,  and  the  pious  zeal  of  the  Jesuits ;  at  Seneca  Lake 
he  watches  a  bald-eagle  chasing  an  osprey,  who  lets  his  captive 
drop  to  be  grasped  in  the  talons  of  the  king  of  birds ;  the  fields 
near  Aurora  cheer  him  with  the  harvests  of  the  "  finest  wheat 
country  in  the  Avorld."  At  one  place  he  is  regtiled  with  salmon, 
at  another  with  fruit,  peculiar  in  flavor  to  each  locality ;  at  one 
moment  he  pauses  to  shoot  a  bittern,  and  at  another  to  examine 
an  old  fortification.  The  capers  and  poppies  in  a  garden,  the 
mandrakes  and  thistles  in  a  brake,  the  blue-jays  and  woodpeckers 
of  the  grove,  the  bullet-marks  in  the  rafters  of  Fort  Niagara, 
tokens  of  the  siege  under  Sir  William  Johnson,  the  boneset  of 
the  swamp,  a  certain  remedy  for  the  local  fever,  a  Yankee  explor- 
ing the  country  for  lands,  the  croaking  of  the  bull-frog  and  the 


DE      WITT      CLINTON.  211 

gleam  of  the  fire-flj,  Indian  men  spearing  for  fish,  and  girls 
making  wampum,  —  these,  and  innumerable  other  scenes  and 
objects,  lure  him  into  the  romantic  vistas  of  tradition  or  the  beau- 
tiful domain  of  natural  science  ;  and  everywhere  he  is  inspired 
by  the  patriotic  survey  to  announce  the  as  yet  unrecorded  promise 
of  the  soil,  and  to  exult  in  the  limitless  destiny  of  its  people.  If 
there  is  a  striking  diversity  between  the  population  and  facilities 
of  travel  in  this  region  as  known  to  us  and  as  described  by  him, 
there  is  in  other  points  a  not  less  remarkable  identity.  Rochester 
is  now  famed  as  the  source  of  one  of  the  most  prolific  superstitions 
of  the  age  ;  and  forty  years  ago  there  resided  at  Crooked  Lake 
Jemima  Wilkinson,  whose  followers  believed  her  the  Saviour 
incarnate.  Clinton  describes  her  equipage, —  "  a  plain  coach 
with  leather  curtains,  the  back  inscribed  with  her  initials  and  a 
star."  The  orchards,  poultry,  corn-fields,  grist-mills,  noted  by 
him,  still  characterize  the  region,  and  are  indefinitely  multiplied. 
The  ornithologist,  however,  would  miss  whole  species  of  birds, 
and  the  richly-veined  woods  must  be  sought  in  less  civilized  dis- 
tricts. The  prosperous  future,  which  the  various  products  of  this 
district  foretold,  has  been  more  than  realized ;  with  each  succes- 
sive improvement  in  the  means  of  communication,  villages  have 
swelled  to  cities ;  barges  and  freight-cars  with  lumber  and  flour 
have  crowded  the  streams  and  rails  leading  to  the  metropolis ; 
and,  in  the  midst  of  its  rural  beauty  and  gemmed  with  peerless 
lakes,  the  whole  region  has,  according  to  his  prescient  conviction, 
annually  increased  in  commerce,  population,  and  refinement. 

A  more  noble  domain,  indeed,  wherein  to  exercise  such  admin- 
istrative genius,  can  scarcely  be  imagined  than  the  State  of  New 
York.  In  its  diversities  of  surface,  water,  scenery,  and  climate, 
it  may  be  regarded  more  than  any  other  member  of  the  confeder- 
acy as  typical  of  the  whole  Union.  The  artist,  the  topographer, 
the  man  of  science,  and  the  agriculturist,  can  find  within  its  limits 
all  that  is  most  characteristic  of  the  entire  country.  In  historical 
incident,  variety  of  immigrant  races,  and  rapid  development,  it  is 
equally  a  representative  state.  There  spreads  the  luxuriant 
Mohawk  valley,  whose  verdant  slopes,  even  when  covered  with 
frost,  the  experienced  eye  of  Washington  selected  for  purchase  as 
the  best  of  agricultural  tracts.     There  were  the  famed  hunting- 


212  THE     NATIONAL     ECONOMIST. 

grounds  of  the  Six  Nations,  the  colonial  outposts  of  the  fur- 
trade,  the  vicinity  of  Frontenac's  sway,  and  the  Canada  wars, 
the  scenes  of  Andre's  capture,  and  Burgoyne's  surrender.  There 
the  very  names  of  forts  embalm  the  fame  of  heroes.  There  lived 
the  largest  manorial  proprietors,  and  not  a  few  of  the  most  emi- 
nent Revolutionary  statesmen.  There  Fulton's  great  invention 
was  realized ;  there  flows  the  most  beautiful  of  our  rivers,  towers 
the  grandest  mountain-range,  and  expand  the  most  picturesque 
lakes ;  there  thunders  the  sublimest  cataract  on  earth,  and  gush 
the  most  salubrious  spas  ;  while  on  the  seaboard  is  the  emporium 
of  the  Western  world. 

A  poet  has  apostrophized  North  America,  with  no  less  truth 
than  beauty,  as  "  land  of  the  many  waters ;  "  and  a  glance  at  the 
map  of  New  York  will  indicate  their  felicitous  distribution  within 
her  limits.  This  element  is  the  natural  and  primitive  means  of 
intercommunication.  For  centuries  it  had  borne  the  aborigines 
in  their  frail  canoes,  and  afterwards  the  trader,  the  soldier,  the 
missionary,  and  the  emigrant,  in  their  batteaux;  and,  when  amved 
at  a  terminus,  they  carried  these  light  transpoi-ts  over  leagues  of 
portage,  again  to  launch  them  on  lake  and  river.  Fourteen  years 
of  Clinton's  life  were  assiduously  devoted  to  his  favorite  project 
of  uniting  these  bodies  of  water.  He  was  the  advocate,  the  memo- 
rialist, the  topographer,  and  financier,  of  the  vast  enterprise,  and 
accomplished  it,  by  his  wisdom  and  intrepidity,  without  the  slight- 
est pecuniary  advantage,  and  in  the  face  of  innumerable  obstacles. 
Its  consummation  was  one  of  the  greatest  festivals  sacred  to  a 
triumph  of  the  arts  of  peace  ever  celebrated  on  this  continent. 
The  impulse  it  gave  to  commercial  and  agricultural  prosperity 
continues  to  this  hour.  It  was  the  foundation  of  all  that  makes 
the  city  and  state  of  New  York  preeminent ;  and,  when  recently 
a  thousand  American  citizens  sailed  up  the  Mississippi,  to  com- 
memorate its  alliance  with  the  Atlantic,  the  ease  and  rapidity  of 
the  transit,  and  the  spectacle  of  virgin  civilization  thus  created, 
were  but  a  new  act  in  the  grand  drama  of  national  development, 
whose  opening  scene  occurred  twenty-seven  years  before,  when 
the  waters  of  Lake  Erie  blended  with  those  of  the  Hudson. 

The  immense  bodies  of  inland  water,  and  the  remarkable  fact 
that  the  Hudson  river,  unlike  other  Atlantic  streams  south  of  it, 


DE     WITT     CLINTON.  213 

flows  unimpeded,  early  impressed  Clinton  with  the  natural  means 
of  intercourse  destined  to  connect  the  seaboard  of  New  York  with 
the  vast  agricultural  districts  of  the  interior.  He  saw  her  peer- 
less river  enter  the  Highlands  only  to  meet,  a  hundred  and  sixty 
miles  beyond,  another  stream,  which  flowed  within  a  compara- 
tively short  distance  from  the  great  chain  of  lakes.  The  very 
existence  of  these  inland  seas,  and  the  obvious  possibility  of  unit- 
ing them  with  the  ocean,  suggested  to  his  comprehensive  mind  a 
new  idea  of  the  destiny  of  the  whole  country.  Within  a  few 
years  an  ingenious  geographer  has  pointed  out,  with  singular 
acumen,  the  relation  of  his  science  to  history,  and  has  demon- 
strated, by  a  theory  not  less  philosophical  than  poetic,  that  the 
disposition  of  land  and  water  in  various  parts  of  the  globe  pre- 
determines the  human  development  of  each  region.  The  copious 
civilization  of  Europe  is  thus  traceable  to  the  numerous  facilities 
of  approach  that  distinguish  it  from  Africa,  which  still  remains 
but  partially  explored.  The  lakes  in  America  prophesied  to  the 
far-reaching  vision  of  Clinton  her  future  progress.  He  perceived, 
more  clearly  than  any  of  his  contemporaries,  that  her  develop- 
ment depended  upon  facilities  of  intercourse  and  communication. 
He  beheld,  with  intuitive  wisdom,  the  extraordinary  provision  for 
this  end,  in  the  succession  of  lake  and  river,  extending,  like  a 
broad  silver  tissue,  from  the  ocean  far  through  the  land,  thus 
bringing  the  products  of  foreign  climes  within  reach  of  the  lone 
emigrant  in  the  heart  of  the  continent,  and  the  staples  of  those 
midland  valleys  to  freight  the  ships  of  her  seaports.  He  felt 
that  the  state  of  all  others  to  practically  demonstrate  this  great 
fact  was  that  with  whose  interests  he  was  intrusted.  It  was  not 
as  a  theorist,  but  as  a  utilitarian,  in  the  best  sense,  that  he  advo- 
cated the  union  by  canal  of  the  waters  of  Lake  Erie  with  those  of 
the  Hudson.  The  patriotic  scheme  was  fraught  with  issues  of  which 
even  he  never  dreamed.  It  was  applying,  on  a  limited  scale,  in 
the  sight  of  a  people  whose  enterprise  is  boundless  in  every  direc- 
tion clearly  proved  to  be  availing,  a  principle  which  may  be  truly 
declared  the  vital  element  of  our  civic  growth.  It  was  giving 
tangible  evidence  of  the  creative  power  incident  to  locomotion. 
It  was  yielding  the  absolute  evidence  then  required  to  convince 
the  less  far-sighted  multitude  that  access  was  the  grand  secret  of 


214  THE     NATIONAL      ECONOMIST. 

increased  value,  that  exchange  of  products  was  the  touchstone  of 
wealth,  and  that  the  iron,  wood,  grain,  fruit,  and  other  abundant 
resources  of  the  interior,  could  acquire  their  real  value  only 
through  facilities  of  transportation.  Simple  as  these  truths 
appear  now,  they  were  widely  ignored  then ;  and  not  a  few 
opponents  of  Clinton  predicted  that,  even  if  he  did  succeed 
in  having  flour  conveyed  from  what  was  then  called  the  "Far 
West "  to  the  metropolis,  at  a  small  expense  of  time  and  money, 
the  grass  would  grow  in  the  streets  of  New  York.  The  political 
economists  of  his  day  were  thus  converted  into  enemies  of  a  sys- 
tem which,  from  that  hour,  has  continued  to  guide  to  prosperous 
issues  every  latent  source  of  wealth  throughout  the  country.  The 
battle  with  ignorance  and  prejudice,  which  Clinton  and  his  friends 
waged,  resulted  in  more  than  a  local  triumph  and  individual 
renown.  It  established  a  great  precedent,  ofiered  a  prolific  exam- 
ple, and  gave  permanent  impulse  and  direction  to  the  public  spirit 
of  the  community.  The  canal  is  now,  in  a  great  measure,  super- 
seded by  the  railway ;  the  traveller  sometimes  finds  them  side  by 
side,  and,  as  he  glances  from  the  sluggish  stream  and  creeping 
barge  to  the  whirling  cars,  and  thence  to  the  telegraph-wire,  he 
witnesses  only  the  more  perfect  development  of  that  great  scheme 
by  which  Clinton,  according  to  the  limited  means,  and  against  the 
inveterate  prejudices,  of  his  day,  sought  to  bring  the  distant  near, 
and  to  render  homogeneous  and  mutually  helpful  the  activity  of 
a  single  state,  and,  by  that  successful  experiment,  indicated  the 
process  whereby  the  whole  confederacy  should  be  rendered  one 
in  interest,  in  enterprise,  and  in  sentiment. 

Before  the  canal  policy  was  realized,  we  are  told  by  its  great 
advocate  that  ''  the  expense  of  conveying  a  barrel  of  flour  by  land 
to  Albany,  from  the  country  above  Cayuga  Lake,  was  more  than 
twice  as  much  as  the  cost  of  transportation  from  New  York  to 
Liverpool;"  and  the  correctness  of  his  financial  anticipations 
was  verified  by  the  first  year's  experiment,  even  before  the  com- 
pletion of  the  enterprise,  when  in  his  message  to  the  legislature 
he  announced  that  "the  income  of  the  canal  fund,  when  added 
to  the  tolls,  exceeded  the  interest  on  the  cost  of  the  canal  by 
nearly  four  hundred  thousand  dollars."  Few,  however,  of  the 
restless  excursionists  that  now  crowd  our  cars  and  steamboats, 


DE     WITT     CLINTON.  215 

would  respond  to  his  praise  of  this  means  of  transportation  -when 
used  for  travel.  His  notion  of  a  journey,  we  have  seen,  differed 
essentially  from  that  now  in  vogue,  which  seems  to  aim  chiefly  at 
the  annihilation  of  space.  To  a  philosophic  mind,  notwithstand- 
ing, his  views  will  not  appear  irrational,  when  he  declares  that 
fifty  miles  a  day,  '•  without  a  jolt,"  is  his  ideal  of  a  tour,  — the 
time  to  be  divided  between  observing,  and,  when  there  is  no  inter- 
est in  the  scenery,  reading  and  conversation.  "I  believe,"  he' 
adds,  '-that  cheaper  or  more  commodious  travelling  cannot  be 
found." 

The  tendency  of  public  life,  in  this  country,  is  to  merge  states- 
manship in  politics.  The  broad  views  and  high  aims  of  the 
fathers  of  the  republic  have  but  occasionally  inspired  modern 
leaders  of  party.  Sagacity,  oftener  than  comprehensiveness, 
adroitness  in  the  use  of  temporary  expedients,  rather  than  appre- 
ciation of  general  principles,  has  secured  to  them  casual  success ; 
but  they  could  have  bequeathed  hallowed  memories  only  through 
identity  with  grand  and  progressive  ideas.  At  the  head  of  the 
second  generation  of  great  public  men  stands  De  Witt  Clinton. 
His  conception  of  the  duty  and  the  privilege  of  office  had  in  it 
somewhat  of  the  enlarged  and  disinterested  spirit  which  endears 
the  names  of  Washington,  Franklin,  and  Hamilton,  and  the  rest 
of  that  noble  brotherhood,  whose  reach  of  thought  and  tone  of 
action  were  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  the  national  life,  of 
Avhose  genius  they  were  the  legitimate  guardians.  Not  only  in 
the  extent  and  wisdom  of  his  projects,  and  the  intelligent  zeal  of 
his  administration,  was  Clinton  the  worthy  successor  of  that  ex- 
traordinary race  of  patriots.  His  endowments,  tastes,  and  habits, 
were  those  of  a  republican  statesman.  Instead  o"f  giving  his  ener- 
gies to  organizing  cliques,  and  political  machinery,  he  meditated 
extensive  j)lan3  for  the  advancement  of  the  state,  and  with  daunt- 
less industry  sought  their  realization.  The  authentic  lore  of 
history  and  philosophy,  and  not  the  ephemeral  chart  of  a  news- 
paper, disciplined  his  mind.  By  virtue  of  heroic  self-reliance; 
not  through  the  artifices  of  cunning,  he  pursued  his  objects  ;  his 
claims  were  based  on  self-respect ;  the  force  of  intelligence,  and 
not  the  blandishments  of  the  courtier,  gave  eloquence  to  his 
appeals ;    and  moral   energy  was   his   method  of  achievement. 


216  THE     NATIONAL     ECONOMIST. 

Like  Scott  and  Webster,  he  began  to  labor  at  dawn ;  like  Gouver- 
neur  Morris,  he  preferred  the  intellectual  refreshment  of  conver- 
sation to  the  idle  pastime  of  a  game  of  hazard.  In  diction,  in 
manner,  and  in  association,  there  was  obviously  the  innate  dignity 
of  a  man  conscious  of  lofty  purposes  and  official  responsibility. 
His  foible  was  pride,  not  vanity ;  the  sense  of  beauty  was  less  cul- 
tivated than  acuteness  of  wit ;  and  imagination  was  secondary  to 
good  sense.  He  furnished  his  mind  for  the  wise  treatment  of 
affiiirs  by  assiduous  and  universal  reading,  by  earnest  thought,  and 
keen  observation.  Thus  the  whole  nature  of  the  man  was  trained 
for  practical  efficiency ;  and  he  habitually  looked  above  and 
beyond  the  limits  of  incidental  questions,  to  the  essential  welfare 
of  the  state.  His  confidence  in  himself  and  his  measures,  accord- 
ingly, was  justified  by  more  enduring  testimony  than  the  caprices 
of  popular  favor.  He  saw  before  and  after.  His  private  tastes 
bad  the  same  character.  He  w^as  a  naturalist,  but  no  connois- 
seur; preferred  satire  to  poetry,  fact  to  fiction,  law  to  speculation. 
His  journeys  were  inspired,  not  by  the  zest  of  adventure,  but 
by  the  love  of  knowledge ;  his  studies  were  directed,  not  to  the 
gratification  of  a  vague  curiosity,  but  to  the  acquirement  of 
valuable  truth.  His  talent  was  executive ;  his  ambition,  to  open 
new  avenues  of  prosperity,  to  found  expansive  institutions,  to 
develop  natural  resources,  to  bring  out  the  latent  powers  of 
mind  and  matter,  of  nature  and  society,  and  to  give  a  wise  and 
effective  direction  to  the  elements  of  national  prosperity.  Like 
all  benefactors  whose  memories  survive,  he  worked  by  the 
light  of  philosophy ;  like  all  artists  whose  ideas  find  perma- 
nent shape,  he  never  lost  sight  of  general  effect  while  absorbed  in 
details. 

He  thus  combined  the  qualities  which  illustrate  public  and 
official  duty  in  accordance  with  the  genius  of  our  institutions. 
Examined  as  a  whole,  his  character  is  of  a  kind  which  signally 
meets  the  wants  and  honors  the  suffrages  of  the  people.  How 
often,  during  the  few  years  that  have  elapsed  since  his  decease, 
has  the  country  suffered  from  the  lack  of  integrity,  firmness, 
devotion,  and  intelligence,  like  his,  in  her  national  and  municipal 
affairs  !  The  method  of  his  statesmanship  w^as  thoroughly  Amer- 
ican,—  instinct  with  republican  courage   and  directness,  above 


DE     WITT      CLINTON.  217 

considerations  of  gain,  mainly  cognizant  of  prospective  good,  and 
undisturbed  by  the  dictum  of  faction.  His  nature  was  cast  in  a 
Roman,  not  a  Jesuitical,  mould.  As  became  a  priest  of  freedom, 
he  was  inspired  by  the  practical  sense  of  a  Franklin  and  the 
dauntless  will  of  a  Loyola,  and  not  by  the  calculating  shrewdness 
of  a  Talleyrand  or  the  visionary  expedients  of  a  Necker.  The 
original  idea  of  the  canal  policy  has  been  ascribed  to  others ;  and, 
as  in  every  similar  instance  of  invention  and  of  enterprise,  many 
honored  names  are  identified  with  the  conception  and  the  progress 
of  the  undertaking  —  capitalists,  engineers,  rhetoricians,  and 
patriots.  But  history  shows  that  the  great  requisite  for  such 
achievements  is  the  indomitable  perseverance  of  men  endowed  with 
the  genius  or  vested  with  the  authority  to  insure  success.  It  was 
this  that  crowned  Fulton's  weary  years  of  experiment  with  tri- 
umph in  the  application  of  steam  to  navigation,  and  enabled 
Morse  to  prove  his  theory,  at  last,  by  the  construction  of  an  elec- 
tric telegraph  from  the  Capitol  where  an  appropriation  was  so 
long  withheld.  In  form,  discourse,  and  feature,  Clinton  bore  the 
impress  of  his  intrinsic  character,  noble,  fearless,  and  determined. 
His  stature  and  brow  instantly  conveyed  the  idea  of  moral  dig- 
nity ;  his  expression  wore  the  severity  of  a  man  of  thought,  yet, 
in  more  genial  moods,  expanded  with  benign  recognition  or  mirth- 
ful humor  ;  in  his  dark  eye  beamed  a  keen  intelligence,  and  in  his 
smile  a  winning  grace.  In  social  life  he  was  upright  and  faithful ; 
in  his  home,  kind  and  attractive ;  and  his  faculties  were  unim- 
paired and  active  within  a  few  moments  of  his  death.  The 
austerity  of  reflection  in  his  hours  of  respite  from  labor  was 
tempered  by  the  amenities  of  love  and  taste  ;  and  he  thus  repre- 
sented, in  manners  and  person,  the  union  of  strong  volition, 
generous  sentiment,  and  vivid  intelligence. 

The  slow  appreciation  of  Clinton's  character  is  a  striking 
evidence  of  the  narrow  views  of  mere  politicians.  That  a  legis- 
lator should  preside  over  a  philosophical  society,  correspond  with 
foreign  savans,  describe  new  species  of  fish,  birds,  and  grain,  and 
leave  the  routine  of  public  affiiirs  to  explore  the  resources  of 
nature,  was  an  incongruity  they  could  neither  understand  nor 
tolerate.  The  distinction  of  an  empty  civic  title  they  estimated, 
but  the  celebrity  arising  from  the  discovery  of  a  wild  farinaceous 
19 


218  THE     NATIONAL     ECONOMIST. 

product  in  New  York,  before  thought  indigenous  only  on  the 
banks  of  the  Caspian,  was  beyond  their  comprehension.  That 
philosophy  and  letters  constituted  an  essential  part  of  the  culture 
of  a  statesman,  was  a  truth  they  ignored  ;  and  that  it  was  possible 
to  execute  the  behests  of  the  people,  and  maintain,  at  the  same 
time,  the  individuality  and  self-respect  of  an  accomplished  and 
honest  citizen,  was  a  theory  which  the  radicals  of  both  parties 
hesitated  to  accept.  It  is  for  this  very  reason,  however,  that  the 
example  of  Clinton  was  invaluable  as  a  precedent.  He  raised  the 
standard  of  public  life,  and  enlarged  the  boundaries  of  official 
utility.  He  illustrated,  with  peculiar  emphasis,  the  value  of  lib- 
eral education,  mental  discipline,  and  dignity  of  character,  in  the 
sphere  of  republican  office ;  and  left  imposing  landmarks  in  the 
path  of  ambition,  which  survive  the  suffrage  of  his  own  and  the 
criticism  of  the  adverse  party. 

He  was,  indeed,  one  of  that  rare  and  invaluable  class  of  men 
who  cherish  a  disinterested  love  of  knowledge  for  its  own  sake, 
and  keep  habitual  vigil  at  its  shrine.  An  indefatigable  purveyor, 
he  sought  the  facts  of  nature  as  the  only  reliable  basis  for  human 
well-being.  The  universe  was  to  him  a  treasury  of  arcaim,  in 
which  laws  of  vast  practical  utility,  and  resources  of  unimagined 
worth,  await  the  earnest  inquirer.  To  bring  these  latent  means 
into  relation  with  the  needs  and  capacities  of  mankind  was  in  his 
view  the  great  problem  of  life.  The  scope  of  his  enterprise 
included  nature,  government,  and  society ;  and  no  inference  was 
too  broad  or  detail  too  insignificant  for  the  grasp  of  his  mind. 
Thus,  at  one  time,  we  find  him  announcing  the  discovery  of  a 
new  kind  of  wheat,  and,  at  another,  bringing  a  Dutch  scholar 
from  an  obscure  village  to  translate  the  early  archives  of  his 
native  state  ;  now  watching  a  mullein-stalk  to  verify  the  deposit 
of  young  bees  in  its  seed-vessels,  and  now  broaching  a  plan  for 
the  defence  of  the  city  when  threatened  with  invasion  ;  noting  the 
minerals  and  trees  of  the  interior,  the  history  of  the  Iroquois,  and 
the  "'melancholy  notes  of  the  loon,"  advocating  a  vast  project 
for  inland  navigation,  and  describing  the  various  species  of  wood 
indigenous  to  the  soil.  From  a  charitable  institution  to  a  fossil, 
and  from  a  man  of  genius  to  the  plumage  of  a  kingfisher,  all  that 
could  increase  the  sum  of  recorded  knowledge,  or  give  scope  to 


DE     WITT     CLINTON.  219 

human  ability,  he  earnestly  recognized.  It  is  this  singular  union 
of  the  naturalist  and  statesman  which  gives  to  his  character  a 
stamp  of  distinctive  beauty.  It  was  not  as  associated  with  the 
tactics  of  pai-ty,  but  as  the  almoner  of  a  higher  economy,  that  he 
regarded  the  functions  of  a  ruler.  To  discover  and  promote  all 
that  ministers  to  the  w^elfare  of  the  state  was,  in  his  regard,  the 
genius  of  administration.  He  sought  to  build  up  a  noble  com- 
monwealth, rather  than  the  power  of  faction.  The  elements  of 
knowledge  and  philanthropy  he  considered  as  vital,  and  accord- 
ingly originated  and  sustained,  as  primary  objects,  educational, 
economical  and  benevolent  institutions,  which  still  bear  gracious 
witness  to  his  memory.  His  mind  was,  however,  of  too  contem- 
plative a  tone  to  be  on  the  alert  for  occasions  to  conciliate  oppo- 
nents ;  his  manly  integrity  precluded  resort  to  the  arts  of  the 
demagogue.  He  thought  too  much  to  be  minutely  vigilant  of  the 
wayward  current  of  popularity,  and  was  too  much  absorbed  in 
great  undertakings  to  '•  catch  the  nearest  way  "  to  the  favor  of 
the  multitude.  The  soundness  of  his  intellectual  growth  and 
moral  energy  may  be  inferred  from  the  rectitude  and  industry  of 
his  college  life,  wherein  the  youth  prefigured  the  man.  His  acqui- 
sitions were  gradual,  but  thorough ;  and,  while  an  undergraduate, 
he  drew  up  a  masterly  address  to  the  regents,  in  behalf  of  his 
fellow-students.  He  was  remarkably  superior  to  selfish  considera- 
tions, invariably  devoting  his  official  revenue  to  promoting  the 
influence  of  whatever  station  he  filled,  and  contributing  largely 
from  his  private  purse  to  science,  hospitality,  and  charity.  He 
was  indifferent  to  emolument,  but  zealous  for  usefulness  and 
honor.  More  adroit  tacticians  and  political  courtiers  superseded 
him  in  office ;  but  their  very  names  are  now  forgotten,  except 
Avhen  recalled  as  associated  with  his  ;  while  the  measures  they 
ridiculed,  and  the  achievements  they  deemed  chimerical,  are 
indissolubly  wrought  into  the  local  features  and  the  civic  life  of 
the  country. 

It  would  be  now  an  ungracious  task  to  review  the  forms  of 
political  animosity,  which,  like  a  swarm  of  venomous  insects, 
hung  around  the  career  of  this  brave  citizen.  When  we  compare 
the  incidentjil  annoyance  with  the  ultimate  triumph,  the  struggle 
with  the  victory,  we  are  tempted  to  exclaim,  with  the  hero  of 


220  THE    NATIONAL    ECONOMIST. 

that  lake  whose  tide  he  married  to  the  sea,  "There  is  glorj 
enough,"  and,  in  a  like  generous  spirit,  to  pass  unrecorded  the 
mean  arts  of  faction  and  the  outrages  of  party  hatred.  The  his- 
tory of  Clinton's  great  achievement  is  like  that  of  every  under- 
taking that  is  in  advance  of  the  time.  It  is  fortunate  that  in  men 
of  true  genius  the  will  is  usually  as  strong  as  the  aim  is  original, 
and  that  perseverance  goes  hand  in  hand  with  invention.  It  is 
remarkable  that  even  Jefferson  thought  the  governor  of  New 
York  a  century  beyond  his  age  in  the  design  he  cherished.  To 
the  scepticism  of  intelligent  friends  was  united  the  bitter  opposi- 
tion of  partisan  foes.  Indignities,  gross  slanders,  violent  news- 
paper attacks,  personal  disrespect,  and  all  the  base  weapons  of 
sectional  jealousy,  were  employed  in  vain.  The  thunders  of 
Tammany  Hall  proved  innocuous ;  satirical  pamphlets  only 
excited  equally  caustic  replies ;  his  failure  as  a  presidential  can- 
didate, and  his  unjust  removal  from  the  oflBce  of  canal  commis- 
sioner, only  drew  more  strongly  towards  him  the  few  who  appre- 
ciated his  abilities  and  shared  his  projects.  He  was  offered  the 
secretaryship  of  state  by  a  chief  magistrate  who  subsequently,  at 
the  festive  board  of  the  opposition,  proposed  the  health  of  Clinton 
as  a  public  benefactor.  He  retreated  from  official  toil  to  his 
library,  and  knew  how  to  soothe  the  wounds  inflicted  by  reckless 
ignorance  with  the  balm  of  literature  and  science.  A  man  who 
can  forget  personal  grievances  over  the  pages  of  Linnaeus  or 
Bacon  is  above  the  need  of  sympathy.  His  courtesy  was  never 
laid  aside,  even  when  the  poisoned  shafts  of  detraction  were  flying 
thickly  around  him,  nor  his  dignity  invaded  while  the  insolent 
shout  of  revengeful  triumph  filled  the  air.  He  was  conscious  of 
a  mission  above  the  spoils  of  office.  The  social  cornsideration  he 
enjoyed  more  than  atoned  for  the  casual  loss  of  political  distinc- 
tion ;  foreigners  of  renown  sought  his  dwelling ;  men  of  science 
were  his  favorite  companions,  books  his  most  reliable  consola- 
tion; and  the  great  scheme  he  so  long  advocated,  with  the 
labor  incident  to  its  progress  and  consummation,  gave  genial 
employment  to  all  his  faculties.  Now  that  the  watchwords  of 
party  are  forgotten,  and  the  ravings  of  faction  have  died  away, 
his  noble  presence  stands  forth  in  bold  relief,  on  the  historical 
canvas  of  that  era,  as  the  pioneer  of  the  genius  of  communica- 


DEWITTCLINTON.  221 

tion,  whose  magic  touch  has  already  filled  with  civilized  life  the 
boundless  valleys  of  the  West,  then  an  untracked  forest;  as 
the  Columbus  of  national  improvement,  and  the  man  who  most 
effectually  anticipated  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  gave  it  executive 
illustration. 

19* 


THE   VOCALIST 

JENNY  LIND. 


The  Life  of  the  North  is  to  us  a  fresh  revelation ;  and,  by  a 
striking  coincidence,  one  after  another  of  its  phases  have  come 
upon  our  transatlantic  vision  in  rapid  succession.  Previously, 
Swedenborg,  Charles  XII.,  and  Linnaeus,  were  the  names  most 
gratefully  associated  with  that  region.  To  many  Americans,  Thor- 
waldsen  was  the  only  name  associated  with  art,  but  a  few  years 
since ;  and  to  those  who  have  visited  Rome,  the  benign  and  ven- 
erable man  is  a  vivid  and  pleasing  reminiscence,  appropriate  to 
the  idea  of  his  grand  apostolic  figures,  and  the  affectionate  honor 
in  which  his  native  Denmark  holds  the  memory  of  its  noble 
sculptor.  But  with  a  Norwegian  violinist  fairly  commenced  our 
popular  knowledge  of  the  genius  of  Northern  Europe.  The  play 
of  the  wind  through  her  forest  pines,  the  glint  of  her  frozen 
streams,  the  tenderness  of  her  households,  and  the  solemnity  of 
her  faith,  seemed  to  breathe  in  the  wizard  tones  of  his  instru- 
ment. Then  the  spirit  of  her  literature  began  slowly  to  win  its 
gentle  but  impressive  way  to  the  American  heart.  Longfellow's 
translation  of  Bishop  Tegner's  ''  Children  of  the  Lord's  Supper," 
with  the  graphic  introduction  descriptive  of  rural  life  in  Sweden, 
touched  the  same  chord  in  New  England  breasts  that  had 
vibrated  to  the  religious  pathos  of  Bryant,  Dana,  and  Hawthorne  ; 
while  not  a  few  readers  became  simultaneously  aware  of  a  brave 
Danish  poet,  recently  followed  to  the  tomb  by  the  people  of  Co- 
penhagen,^ with  every  token  of  national  grief     The  dramas  of 


JENNY    LIND.  223 

(Ehlenschlager,  from  their  union  of  familiar  expression  with  the 
deepest  feeling,  though  but  partially  known  in  this  country,  awa- 
kened both  curiosity  and  interest.  Then,  too,  came  to  us  the 
domestic  novels  of  Miss  Bremer,  portraying  so  heartily  the  life 
of  home  in  Sweden,  and  appealing  to  the  most  universal  sympa- 
thies of  our  people.  Finally,  Hans  Andersen's  delicious  story- 
books, veiling  such  fine  imaginative  powers  under  the  guise  of  the 
utmost  simplicity,  raised  up  for  him  scores  of  juvenile  admirers, 
while  children  of  a  larger  growth  enjoyed  the  originality  of  his 
fictions  with  equal  zest,  as  the  ofispring  of  rare  human  sympathy 
and  original  invention.  The  pictures  wafted  to  our  shores  by  the 
late  revolutionary  exigencies  of  the  Continent  have  often  yielded 
glimpses  of  northern  scenery.  Norwegian  forests,  skies,  and 
mountains,  attracted  the  eye  at  the  Dusseldorf  gallery ;  and  thus, 
through  both  art*  and  literature,  the  simple,  earnest,  and  poetic 
features  of  life  in  the  North  were  brought  within  the  range  of 
our  consciousness.  It  developed  unimagincd  affinities  with  our 
own ;  and,  as  it  were,  to  complete  and  consecrate  the  revelation, 
we  heard  the  vocal  genius  of  Northern  Europe  —  the  Swedish 
nightingale,  Jenny  Lind. 

Stockholm  is  justly  regarded  as  the  most  elegant  city  of  North- 
ern Europe.  It  is  situated  at  the  junction  of  the  lake  Malar 
with  an  inlet  of  the  Baltic.  Although  usually  described  as 
founded  on  seven  isles,  it  is,  in  point  of  fact,  mainly  situated  on 
three;  the  smallest  and  most  central  having  been  the  original 
site,  and  still  constituting  the  most  populous  and  active  section. 
The  irregularity  of  its  form,  and  the  blending  of  land  and  water, 
render  the  appearance  of  the  city  remarkably  picturesque.  From 
the  elevated  points,  besides  the  various  buildings,  craft  of  all 
kinds  in  motion  and  at  anchor,  numerous  bridges  and  a  fine  back- 
ground of  mountains  are  discernible,  and  combine  to  form  a  beau- 
tiful panorama.  The  royal  palace  is  exceeded  in  magnificence 
only  by  that  of  Versailles. 

From  an  unpretending  edifice  in  one  of  the  by-streets  of  the 
city  of  Stockholm,  in  Sweden,  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  a  troop 
of  children  might  have  been  seen  to  emerge,  at  noon,  and  break 
the  silence  that  at  other  hours  invested  the  place,  with  the  lively 
chat  and  quick  laughter  natural  to  emancipated  scholars.     In  a 


224  THEVOCALIST. 

few  moments  they  dispersed  to  their  several  homes,  and  early  the 
next  day  were  again  visible,  one  by  one,  disappearing,  with  a 
more  subdued  bearing,  within  the  portal  of  the  humble  domicile. 

Towards  the  seminary,  on  a  pleasant  day,  there  moved  rapidly 
the  carriage  of  one  of  those  useful,  though  unrecognized  beings, 
who  seem  born  to  appreciate  the  gifts  which  God  so  liberally  dis- 
penses, but  which  the  insensibility  and  selfishness  of  mankind,  in 
general,  permit  to  languish  in  obscurity  until  a  fortunate  circum- 
stance brings  them  to  light.  Some  time  previous,  the  good  lady, 
in  passing  the  school,  had  been  struck  with  the  beauty  of  a  child's 
voice  that  rose  blithely  from  the  dwelling.  She  was  induced  to 
alight  and  enter ;  and  her  astonishment  was  only  increased  upon 
discovering  that  this  cheerful  song  came  from  a  diminutive  girl, 
busied  in  arranging  the  schoolroom,  during  a  temporary  recess. 
She  learned  that  this  maiden  was  the  daughter  of  the  schoolmis- 
tress ;  and  the  somewhat  restricted  air  of  homely  comfort  visible 
in  the  establishment,  and  the  tinge  of  severity  in  the  manners  of 
the  mother,  contrasted  forcibly  in  the  lady's  imagination  with  the 
apparently  instinctive  soaring  of  the  child's  spirit  into  the  atmos- 
phere of  song,  from  her  dim  and  formal  surroundings,  as  the 
skylark  lifts  itself  from  a  lowly  nest  among  the  dark  weeds  up  to 
the  crystal  heavens.  It  was  a  sweet  illustration  of  the  law  of 
compensation. 

The  air  the  child  was  singing,  as  she  busied  herself  about  the 
room,  was  a  simple  native  strain,  quite  familiar,  and  by  no  means 
difficult  of  execution  ;  it  was  the  quality  of  the  voice,  the  natural 
flow  of  the  notes,  the  apparent  ease,  grace,  and  earnest  sweetness 
of  the  little  songstress,  that  gained  the  visitor's  ear  and  heart. 
And  now  she  had  come  to  urge  upon  the  parents  the  duty  of 
affording  every  encouragement  to  develop  a  gift  so  rare  and  beau- 
tiful ;  she  expressed  her  conviction  that  the  child  was  born  for  a 
musical  artist,  and  destined  not  only  to  redeem  her  parents  from 
want,  but  to  do  honor  to  her  country.  This  impression  was 
deepened  when  she  learned  that  this  musical  tendency  manifested 
itself  as  early  as  the  age  of  three,  and  that  the  little  girl  had  long 
awakened  the  wonder  of  the  family  by  repeating  accurately  even 
intricate  airs,  after  having  heard  them  but  once ;  that  she  had 
thus  sung  habitually,  spontaneously,  and  seemed   to  find  of 


JENNY    LIND.  225 

her  own  volition  a  peculiar  consolation  in  the  act  for  the  dry 
routine  of  her  life,  though  from  without  not  a  single  circum- 
stance gave  any  impulse  or  direction  to  this  vocal  endowment. 

She  exhibited,  also  to  tlie  just  perception  of  INIadamc  Lund- 
berg,  herself  a  celebrated  Swedish  actress,  as  well  as  a  benevo- 
lent woman,  the  usual  conditions  of  genius,  in  backward  physical 
growth,  precocious  mental  vigor,  and  mature  sensibilities.  The 
latter,  indeed,  were  so  active,  that  her  mother,  and  even  her  kind 
adviser,  doubted  if  she  possessed  sufficient  energy  of  charac- 
ter for  so  trying  a  profession  as  that  of  an  artist ;  and  this  con- 
sideration, added  to  the  prejudice  of  the  parents  against  a  public, 
and  especially  a  theatrical  career,  for  a  time  chilled  the  hopes 
of  the  enthusiastic  patroness.  At  length,  however,  their  consent 
was  obtained  that  the  experiment  sliould  be  tried,  and  the  diffi- 
dent little  girl,  only  accustomed  to  domestic  privacy,  but  with  a 
new  and  strange  hope  wildly  fluttering  in  her  bosom,  was  taken 
to  Croelius,  a  veteran  music-master  of  Stockholm,  who  was  so 
delighted  with  her  rare  promise  that  one  day  he  led  her  to  the 
house  of  Count  Pucke,  then  director  of  the  court  theatre.  Her 
reception,  however,  did  not  correspond  with  the  old  man's 
desires  :  for  the  nobleman  coldly  inquired  what  he  was  expected 
to  do  with  such  a  child.  It  must  be  confessed  that  the  absence 
of  beauty  and  size  did  not,  at  the  first  glance,  create  any  high 
anticipations  in  behalf  of  the  demure  maiden.  Croelius,  though 
disappointed,  was  quite  undismayed  ;  he  entreated  the  director  to 
hear  her  sing,  and  declared  his  purpose  to  teach  her  gratuitously, 
if  he  could  in  no  other  way  secure  the  cultivation  of  her  voice 
and  talents.  This  earnestness  induced  the  count  to  listen  with 
attention  and  candor ;  and  the  instant  she  had  finished,  he 
exclaimed,  "  She  shall  have  all  the  advantages  of  the  Stockholm 
Academy  !  "  Such  was  Jenny  Lind's  initiation  into  the  life  of 
an  artist. 

She  now  began  regularly  to  appear  on  the  stage,  and  was  soon 
an  adept  in  juvenile  parts.  She  proved  widely  attractive  in 
vaudevilles,  which  were  written  expressly  for  her ;  and  it  is 
remarkable  that  the  charm  did  not  lie  so  much  in  the  precocious 
intelligence,  as  in  the  singular  geniality,  of  the  little  actress. 
Nature  thus  early  asserted  her  dominion.     There  was  an  indefin- 


226  THE    VOCALIST. 

able  human  interest,  a  certain  original  vein,  that  universally  sur- 
prised and  fascinated,  while  it  took  from  the  child  the  eclat  of  a 
mere  infant  phenomenon,  by  bringing  her  from  the  domain  of 
vulgar  wonder  into  the  range  of  that  refined  sympathy,  one  touch 
of  which  "makes  the  w^hole  w^orld  kin."  In  a  year  Croelius 
reluctantly  gave  up  his  pupil  to  Berg,  who  to  kindred  zeal 
united  far  more  energy ;  and  by  him  she  was  inducted  thoroughly 
into  the  elements  of  her  art. 

Probation  is  quite  as  essential  to  the  true  development  of  art 
as  encouragement.  The  eager,  impassioned,  excitable  tempera- 
ment needs  to  be  chastened,  the  recklessness  of  self-confidence 
awed,  and  that  sublime  patience  induced  through  which  reliable 
and  tranquil  energy  takes  the  place  of  casual  and  un.«;ustaincd 
activity.  By  nature  Jenny  Lind  w^as  thoughtful  and  earnest, 
disposed  to  silence,  and  instinctively  reserved ;  while  the  influence 
of  her  early  home  was  to  subdue  far  more  than  to  exhilarate. 
The  change  in  her  mode  of  life  and  prospects  was  so  unexpected, 
her  success  as  a  juvenile  prodigy  so  brilliant,  and  the  universal 
social  favor  she  enjoyed,  on  account  of  the  winsome  amiability  of 
her  character,  so  fitted  to  elate  a  youthful  heart,  that  we  cannot 
but  regard  it  as  one  of  the  many  providential  events  of  her 
career,  that  just  at  the  critical  moment  when  the  child  was  losing 
herself  in  the  maiden,  and  nature  and  education  were  ultimately 
shaping  her  artistic  powers,  an  unexpected  impediment  was 
allowed  to  check  her  already  too  rapid  advancement;  and  a 
pause,  sad  enough  at  the  time,  but  fraught  with  enduring  bene- 
fit, gave  her  occasion  to  discipline  and  elevate  her  soul,  renew  her 
overtasked  energies,  and  plume  her  wings  for  flights  more  sus- 
tained and  lofty. 

Yet,  while  thus  aware  of  the  utility  of  her  trial,  we  can  easily 
imagine  its  bitterness.  The  loss  of  a  gift  of  nature  through 
which  a  human  being  has  learned  to  find  both  the  solace  and  the 
inspiration  of  existence,  upon  which  the  dearest  hopes  were 
founded,  and  by  which  the  most  glorious  triumphs  were  achieved, 
is  one  of  those  griefs  few  can  realize.  Raphaers  gentle  heart 
bled  when  feebleness  unnerved  the  hand  that  guided  the  pencil  to 
such  lovely  issues,  and  big  tears  rolled  down  Scott's  manly  cheek 
w^hen  he  strove  in  vain  to  go  on  with  his  latest  composition.    How 


JENNYLIND.  227 

desolate  tlien  must  that  young  aspirant  for  the  honor  and  the 
deh'ghts  of  the  vocal  art  have  felt  when  suddenly  deprived  of  her 
voice  !  The  dream  of  her  youth  was  broken  in  a  moment.  The 
charm  of  her  being  faded  like  a  mist ;  and  the  star  of  hope,  that 
had  thus  far  beamed  serenely  on  her  path,  grew  dim  in  the  cold 
twilight  of  disappointment,  keen,  entire,  and  apparently  irremedi- 
able. This  painful  condition  was  aggravated  by  the  fact  that 
her  age  now  rendered  it  out  of  the  question  to  perform  childish 
parts,  while  it  did  not  authorize  those  of  a  mature  character. 

The  circumstances,  too,  of  her  failure  were  singularly  trying. 
She  was  announced  to  appear  as  Agatha  in  Weber's  "  Frie- 
schutz,"  a  character  she  had  long  regarded  as  that  in  which  her 
ability  would  be  genially  tested.  To  it  her  young  ambition  had 
long  pointed,  and  with  it  her  artistic  sympathies  were  familiarly 
identified.  The  hour  came,  and  that  wonderful  and  delicate 
instrument,  which  as  a  child  she  had  governed  so  adroitly  that 
it  seemed  the  echo  of  her  mind ;  that  subtle  medium,  through 
which  her  feelings  had  been  wont  to  find  such  ready  and  full 
vent,  refused  to  obey  her  will,  yielded  not  to  the  pleadings  of 
love  or  ambition,  was  hushed  as  by  some  cruel  magic  —  and  Jenny 
Lind  was  mute,  with  anguish  in  her  bosom  ;  her  friends  looking 
on  in  tearful  regret,  and  her  maestro  chagrined  beyond  descrip- 
tion !  Where  had  those  silvery  tones  fled  ?  What  catastrophe 
had  all  at  once  loosened  those  invisible  harp- strings  ?  The 
splendid  vision  of  fame,  of  bounteous  pleasure,  of  world-excited 
sympathy,  and  of  triumphant  art,  disappeared  like  the  gorgeous 
cities  seen  by  the  traveller,  from  the  Straits  of  Messina,  painted 
in  tinted  vapor  on  the  horizon. 

Jenny  Lind  ceased  to  sing,  but  her  love  of  art  was  deepened, 
her  trust  in  nature  unshaken,  her  simplicity  and  kindliness  as 
real  as  before.  Four  long  years  she  lived  without  the  rich 
promise  that  had  invested  her  childhood  :  but,  with  undiminished 
force  of  purpose,  she  studied  the  art  for  w^hich  she  felt  herself 
born,  with  patient,  acute,  earnest  assiduity,  and  then  another  and 
blissful  episode  rewarded  her  quiet  heroism.  The  fourth  act  of 
"  Robert  le  Diable"  had  been  announced  for  a  special  occasion, 
and  it  so  happened  that  in  consequence  of  the  insignificant  role 
of  Alice,  consisting  of  a  single  solo,  no  one  of  the  regular  singers 


228  THE     VOCALIST. 

was  disposed  to  adopt  the  character.  In  this  emergency,  Berg 
was  reminded  of  his  unfortunate  pupil.  She  meekly  consented  to 
appear,  pleased  with  an  opportunity  to  be  useful,  and  oblige  her 
kind  maestro. 

While  practising  this  solo,  to  the  delight  and  astonishment  of 
both  teacher  and  pupil,  the  long-lost  voice  suddenly  reappeared. 
It  seemed  as  if  Nature  had  only  withdrawn  the  gift  for  a  season, 
that  her  child  might  gather  strength  and  wisdom  to  use  it  effi- 
ciently, and  in  an  unselfish  spirit;  and  then  restored  it  as  a 
deserved  recompense  for  the  resignation  and  truth  with  which  the 
deprivation  had  been  borne.  We  can  fancy  the  rapturous  emo- 
tions of  the  gentle  votary  that  night,  when  she  retired  from  the 
scene  of  her  new  and  unanticipated  triumph.  The  occasion  has 
been  aptly  compared  to  the  memorable  third  act  of  the  "  Merchant 
of  Venice  "  on  the  evening  of  Kean's  dtbiU  at  Drury  Lane. 
Jenny  Lind  immediately  reverted  to  her  cherished  ideal  part  — 
that  of  Agatha.  She  was  now  sixteen  years  of  age ;  her  charac- 
ter rendered  firm  by  discipline,  her  love  of  music  deepened  by 
more  comprehensive  views  and  a  better  insight,  and  her  whole 
nature  warmed  and  softened  by  the  realization  of  the  fondest  and 
earliest  hopes,  long  baffled,  yet  consistently  cherished.  The  most 
experienced  actors  were  struck  with  wonder  at  the  facility  and 
perfection  of  her  dramatic  style.  In  this,  as  in  her  vocalism,  was, 
at  once,  recognized  that  peculiar  truth  to  nature  which  constitutes 
the  perfection  of  art  —  that  unconsciousness  of  self  and  circum- 
stance, and  that  fresh  idea  of  character,  at  once  so  uncommon  and 
80  delightful.  She  drew  the  orchestra  after  her  by  her  bold  yet 
true  execution;  and  seemed  possessed  with  the  genius  of  the 
composer  as  well  as  with  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the  character  she 
sung,  so  complete  and  individual  was  the  result. 

Already  the  idol  of  her  native  city,  and  the  hope  of  the 
Swedish  stage,  her  own  ideas  of  art  and  aims  as  an  artist  remained 
unchanged.  Her  first  desire  was  to  seek  the  instruction  of 
Garcia,  with  a  view  to  perfect  her  method  and  subdue  some  vocal 
difficulties.  She  gracefully  acknowledged  the  social  homage  and 
theatrical  distinction  awarded  her ;  but  these  were  but  incidental 
to  a  great  purpose.  She  had  a  nobler  ambition  to  satisfy,  a  higher 
ideal  to  realize,  and  pressed  on  her  still  obstructed  way,  unallured 


JENNY     LIND.  229 

by  the  pleasures  of  the  moment,  and  undismayed  by  the  distance 
of  the  goal.  In  order  to  obtain  the  requisite  means  for  a  sojourn 
at  Paris,  she  made  excursions  through  Norway  and  Sweden,  with 
her  father,  during  the  vacations  of  the  theatre,  to  give  concerts ; 
and  when  sufficient  had  thus  been  acquired,  she  obtained  leave  of 
absence  from  the  Stockholm  director,  and  left  home  for  Paris, 
notwithstanding  the  dissuasion  of  her  parents.  They  confided, 
however,  as  before,  in  her  own  sense  of  right ;  and  she  hastened 
to  place  herself  under  the  instruction  of  Garcia. 

Here  another  keen  disappointment  subdued  her  reviving  hopes. 
At  the  first  trial,  her  new  teacher  said :  ''  My  child,  you  have  no 
voice ;  do  not  sing  a  note  for  three  months,  and  then  come  and 
resume  again."  Once  more  she  wrapped  herself  in  the  mantle 
of  patience,  w^ent  into  studious  retirement,  and,  at  the  prescribed 
time,  again  returned  to  Garcia,  whose  cheering  words  now  were, 
"  My  child,  you  can  begin  your  lessons  immediately."  Simple 
words,  indeed,  but  more  welcome  to  that  ardent  child  of  song, 
intent  on  progress  in  the  art  she  loved,  than  the  wildest  plaudits. 
She  returned  with  an  elastic  step,  and  entered  with  joyful  enthu- 
siasm upon  her  artistic  career.  Meyerbeer  immediately  offered 
her  an  en^af^ement  at  Berlin.  The  consummate  skill  of  her 
teacher,  and  her  own  enlarged  experience  and  high  resolves,  made 
her  advancement  rapid  and  genuine.  Thenceforth  a  series  of 
musical  triumphs,  unexcelled  in  the  history  of  the  lyrical  drama, 
attended  the  life  of  Jenny  Lind.  We  might  repeat  countless 
anecdotes  of  the  universal  admiration  and  profound  sympathy  she 
excited  at  Berlin,  Vienna,  Dresden,  Bremen,  Munich,  Aix  la 
Chapelle,  and,  indeed,  wherever  her  voice  was  heard  on  the  stage 
and  at  concerts.  The  testimonies  of  the  highest  private  regard, 
and  public  appreciation,  were  lavished  upon  her  in  the  shape  of 
costly  gifts,  wreaths  of  silver,  poetic  tributes,  philosophical  criti- 
cisms, the  breathless  silence  or  overwhelming  applause  of  entranced 
multitudes,  and  all  the  signs  of  enthusiastic  delight  at  the  advent 
of  a  true  child  of  nature  and  of  song.  To  us  the  record  of  her 
two  visits  to  England  is  yet  vivid,  and  it  is  needless  to  reiterate 
the  extraordinary  demonstrations  which  there  attested  her  singu- 
lar merits  and  unequalled  attractiveness. 

The  population  of  Berlin  and  Vienna  assembled  at  midnight 
20 


230  THE     VOCALIST. 

to  bid  her  adieu ;  and  when  she  last  left  her  native  city,  every 
ship  in  the  harbor  was  manned  and  every  quay  crowded  to  see 
her  embark  in  the  presence  of  the  queen.  Nor  are  these  sponta- 
neous tributes  to  be  exclusively  ascribed  to  the  love  of  novelty 
and  the  excitement  of  renown.  Heroes  and  heroines  the  world 
cannot  do  without,  unless  it  lapses  into  frigid  and  selfish  material- 
ism; admiration  for  talent  and  sympathy  with  genius  are  but 
human  instincts.  It  is  seldom,  however,  that  these  sentiments 
are  upheld  and  sanctioned  by  reverence  for  worth.  Therefore  is 
it  beautiful  to  witness  the  voluntary  oblations  which  attend  the 
great  artist  whose  expression,  however  eloquent,  is  the  true  mani- 
festation of  a  pure,  noble,  and  disinterested  spirit.  It  is  not 
Jenny  Lind  in  her  personality,  but  as  a  priestess  of  art,  an  inter- 
preter of  humanity,  a  gifted  and  loyal  expositor  of  feelings  that 
lend  grace  to  life  and  elevation  to  the  soul,  that  draws  the  com- 
mon heart  toward  her  with  such  frank  and  ardent  gratulation. 
Her  well-known  and  unostentatious  charities,  her  simplicity  of 
life,  her  sympathy  with  her  fellow-creatures,  and  unaffected  man- 
ners, so  accord  with  the  glorious  art  she  so  rarely  illustrates,  as 
to  justify  to  reflection  the  impulsive  admiration  she  excites. 

It  is  not  in  sublimity  that  Jenny  Lind  excels ;  and  whatever 
excellence  her  Norma  may  possess,  it  is  not  of  that  characteristic 
species  which  renders  her  impersonations  of  ''La  Figlia  del  Re- 
gimento,"  of  Alice,  of  Lucia,  and  of  Amina,  so  memorable.  In 
the  former  character  she  makes  innocence  play,  through  the  rude 
habits  acquired  in  the  camp,  in  a  way  so  exquisite  as  to  enchant 
as  by  the  spell  of  reality.  In  the  "  Bride  of  Lammermoor  ■' 
there  is  a  melancholy  beauty  which  haunts  the  listener.  It  is 
her  greatest  tragic  part.  The  pathos  of  the  third  act  seems  repro- 
duced from  the  very  genius  which  created  the  romance.  Her 
Amina  is  Bellini's ;  and  this  is  saying  all  that  praise  can  utter. 
We  may  realize  her  versatility  by  comparing  the  comic  jealousy 
so  archly  displayed  in  the  "  Noces  de  Figaro  "  with  the  tender- 
ness of  the  sleep-walking  scene  in  "La  Somnambula."  It  has 
been  well  observed  of  her  that,  in  the  former  opera,  "  she  adheres 
to  the  genius  of  Mozart  with  a  modest  appreciation  of  the  genius 
of  that  master  " —  a  commendation  as  high  as  it  is  rare.  One  of 
the  most  remarkable  traits  of  her  artistic  skill  is  its  exquisite  and 


JENNY      L  I  N  D  .  231 

wonderful  discrimination  —  a  quality  no  description  can  make 
obvious. 

The  peculiar  charm  of  Jenny  Lind,  as  an  artist,  is  her  uncon- 
sciousness. We  are  disposed  to  regard  this  as  one  of  the  most 
reliable  tests  of  superior  gifts.  It  at  least  proves  the  absorption 
of  self  in  what  is  dearer  —  a  condition  essential  to  all  true  great- 
ness. The  most  acute  observers  of  this  beautiful  vocalist  fail  to 
detect  the  slightest  reference  either  to  her  audience  or  herself 
while  engaged  in  a  part.  For  the  time  being  her  very  existence 
seems  identified  with  the  character  she  represents.  It  is  the  after- 
thought, not  the  impression  of  the  moment,  that  brings  us  to  the 
artist.  Infected  by  the  complete  realization  of  the  scene,  we  think 
of  it  alone ;  and  only  when  it  has  passed  away  do  we  become 
aware  that  the  genius  of  another  has,  as  it  were,  incarnated  a 
story  or  a  sentiment  before  us,  through  will,  sympatliy,  and  talent. 
The  process  is  quite  as  unthought  of  as  that  by  which  a  master- 
piece of  painting  or  sculpture  has  been  executed,  when  we  stand 
before  it  rapt  in  that  harmonious  spell  that  permits  no  analysis 
and  suggests  no  task-work,  any  more  than  the  landscape  of  sum- 
mer, or  the  effulgence  of  a  star.  We  feel  only  the  presence  of 
the  beautiful,  the  advent  of  a  new  creation,  the  irresistible  appeal 
to  the  highest  instincts  of  the  soul. 

Carlyle  says  "the  unconscious  is  the  alone  complete" — an 
aphorism  which  Jenny  Lind  robs  of  all  mystery ;  for  her  superi- 
ority consists  in  the  wholeness  and  unity  of  her  effects,  and  this  is 
produced  by  a  kind  of  self-surrender,  such  as  we  rarely  see  except 
in  two  of  the  most  genuine  phases  of  humanity  —  genius  and 
childhood ;  in  this  tendency  they  coalesce ;  and  hence  the  fresh- 
ness that  lingers  around  the  richly-endowed  nature,  and  the  uni- 
versal faith  wliich  it  inspires.  The  secret  is  that  such  characters 
have  never  wandered  far  from  nature;  they  have  kept  within 
sight  of  that  "  immortal  sea  that  brought  us  hither  ; "  they  con- 
stitute an  aristocracy  spontaneously  recognized  by  all ;  and  they 
triumph  as  poets,  artists,  and  influential  social  beings,  not  through 
the  exercise  of  any  rare  and  wonderful  gift,  but  from  obedience 
to  the  simple  laws  of  truth  —  to  the  primal  sympathies,  and  to  a 
kind  of  innate  and  glorious  confidence  which  lifts  them  above 
ignoble  fear  and  selfish  tricks.     The  true  hero,  poet,  artist,  the 


232  THE     VOCALIST. 

true  man  or  woman,  who  seem  to  the  multitude  to  be  peculiarly 
endowed,  differ  from  those  who  do  them  voluntary  homage  chiefly 
in  this  unconsciousness  of  self;  this  capacity  to  be  ever  "  nobler 
than  their  moods; ''  this  sympathetic  breadth  of  life  that  enables 
them  to  go  forth  with  a  kind  of  elemental  power  and  enter  into 
other  forms  of  being ;  the  principle  of  their  existence  is  faith, 
not  dexterity  ;  sentiment,  not  calculation. 

It  will  be  seen  that  we  recognize  a  moral  basis  as  the  source  of 
Jenny  Lind's  fascination ;  and,  if  we  were  obliged  to  define  this 
in  a  single  word,  perhaps  the  lexicon  would  furnish  none  so 
expressive  as  the  homely  one  —  truth.  But  we  use  it  as  signifi- 
cant of  far  more  than  the  absence  of  falsehood ;  we  mean  by  it 
candor,  trust,  spontaneity,  directness.  We  believe  that  Jenny 
Lind  inspires  sympathy  in  spite  of  her  petite  figure,  not  alto- 
gether because  she  warbles  enchantingly,  and  has  amiable  man- 
ners, but  also  on  account  of  the  faith  she  at  once  excites.  We 
perceive  that  love  of  approbation  is  not  her  ruling  impulse, 
although,  her  profession  might  excuse  it ;  but  that  she  has  an 
ideal  of  her  own,  an  artistic  conscience,  a  love  of  art,  a  musical 
ministry  to  satisfy  and  accomplish,  and  that  these  considerations 
induce  a  nobler  ambition  than  coexists  with  mere  vanity.  It  has 
been  said  that  the  remarkable  novel  of  ''  Consuelo,"  by  George 
Sand,  is  founded  on  the  character  and  history  of  Jenny  Lind ; 
and,  although  this  is  not  the  case,  the  theory  of  the  tale,  the 
guileless  devotion  to  art,  as  such,  which  stamps  the  heroine  with 
such  exalted  grace,  finds  a  parallel  in  this  famed  vocalist  of  the 
North ;  the  same  singleness  of  purpose  and  intact  clearness  of 
soul,  the  sanle  firm  will  and  gentle  heart,  are  evident.  Much, 
too,  of  her  success  is  attributable  to  the  philosophy  of  Consuelo' s 
maestro  —  that,  to  reach  the  highest  excellence  in  art,  the  affec- 
tions, as  well  as  the  mind,  must  be  yielded  at  her  shrine.  There 
is  a  subtle  and  deep  relation  between  feeling  and  expression; 
and  the  biographies  of  those  who  have  achieved  renown  in  the 
latter,  under  any  of  its  artistic  forms,  indicate  that  it  has 
embodied  that  within  them  that  found  no  adequate  response  in 
actual  life. 

The  highest  efforts  of  the  poet  and  musician  are  confessedly 
the  result  of  baffled  or  overflowing  emotion  ;  disguised,  perhaps, 


JENNY     LIND.  233 

as  to  the  form,  but  clearly  evident  in  the  tone  of  their  produc- 
tions. Mozart  and  Raphael,  Byron  and  Paganini,  have  illustrated 
this  most  emphatically.  Jenny  Lind  seems  to  have  kept  her  bet- 
ter feelings  alive  by  the  habitual  exercise  of  benevolence,  and  a 
diffusive  friendliness,  while  her  concentrated  and  earnest  activity 
finds  utterance  in  her  art.  Hence  the  sway  slic  has  gained  over 
countless  hearts,  each  absorbed  in  its  own  dream,  or  shadowed  by 
its  own  regrets,  that  glow  again  in  the  kindling  atmosphere  of 
song,  which  gushes  from  a  soul  over  which  no  overmastering 
passion  has  yet  cast  a  gloom,  and  whose  transparent  waters  no 
agitation  of  conflicting  desires  has  ever  made  turbid  and  restless. 
Jenny  Lind  has  been  a  priestess  at  the  shrine  of  art,  and  there- 
fore interprets  its  oracles  "as  one  having  authority." 

In  this  country  the  idea  of  fashion,  and  the  mere  relish  of 
amusement,  have  blended  so  exclusively  with  the  support  of  the 
opera,  that  we  seldom  realize  its  artistic  relations  and  influence. 
The  taste  for  the  Italian  Opera  seems  to  have  extended  in  the 
ratio  of  civilization ;  and,  although  it  is,  after  all,  an  exotic  among 
the  Anglo-Saxons,  —  a  pleasure  born  in  the  "  sweet  South,"  and, 
in  its  very  richness  of  combination,  suggestive  of  the  impassioned 
feeling  and  habitual  luxury  of  those  climes,  —  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  typical  of  the  complex  life,  wants,  and  tendencies,  of 
modern  society.  The  old  English  tragic  drama,  robust,  fierce- 
hearted,  and  unadorned,  has  faded  before  it ;  the  theatre,  as  a 
reunion  of  wits,  and  an  arena  for  marvellous  histrionic  effects,  as 
a  subject  of  elegant  criticism,  and  a  nucleus  for  universal  sym- 
pathy, may  be  said  not  to  exist ;  while  the  opera  has  become 
the  scene  of  display,  elegance,  and  pleasure,  and  of  the  highest 
triumphs. 

The  sentiment  of  the  age  has  written  itself  in  music.  Its  wild 
intelligence,  its  keen  analysis,  its  revolutionary  spirit,  its  restless- 
ness, and  its  humanity,  may  be  traced  in  the  rich  and  brilliant 
combinations  of  Rossini,  in  the  grand  symphonies  of  Beethoven, 
in  the  pleading  tenderness  of  Bellini,  and  in  the  mingled  war- 
notes  an^  sentiment  of  Verdi.  The  demand  for  undisguised  and 
free  expression,  characteristic  of  the  times,  finds  also  its  requisite 
scope  in  the  lyrical  drama.  Recitation  is  too  tame,  pantomime 
too  silent,  scenic  art  too  illusive,  costum.e  too  familiar,  music  too 
20* 


284  THE     VOCALIST. 

unpicturesque  ;  but  all  these  combined  are,  at  once,  as  romantic, 
exciting,  impressive,  and  melodramatic,  as  the  various  aptitudes, 
the  exacting  taste,  and  the  broad,  experimental  genius  of  the  age. 
The  gifts  of  nature,  the  resources  of  art,  the  gratification  of  the 
senses,  the  exigencies  of  fashion  and  taste,  and  the  wants  of  the 
heart  and  imagination,  find  in  the  opera  a  most  convenient  luxury. 
The  lyrical  drama  has  thus  gradually  usurped  the  place  of  tour- 
nament and  theatre ;  it  is  a  social  as  well  as  an  artistic  exponent 
of  the  day  ;  and  those  who  have  best  illustrated  it  are  justly 
regarded  as  public  benefactors.  Few,  however,  have  ministered 
in  this  temple  with  the  artless  grace,  the  pure  enthusiasm,  the 
glory,  of  Jenny  Lind.  The  daughters  of  the  South,  ardent  and 
susceptible,  but  capricious  and  extravagant,  have  heretofore  won 
its  chief  honors  ;  their  triumphs  have  been  great  but  spasmodic, 
gained  by  impulse  rather  than  nature,  by  glorious  gifts  of  person 
rather  than  rare  graces  of  soul. 

Jenny  Lind,  with  her  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes,  her  unqueenly 
form,  and  childlike  simplicity,  has  achieved  almost  unparalleled 
success,  by  means  quite  diverse.  Her  one  natural  gift  is  a  voice 
of  singular  depth,  compass,  flexibility,  and  tone.  This  has  been, 
if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  mesmerized  by  a  soul  ear- 
nest, pure,  and  sincere  ;  and  tlius,  with  the  clear  perception  and 
dauntless  will  of  the  North,  has  she  interpreted  the  familiar 
musical  dramas  in  a  new,  vivid,  and  original  manner.  One 
would  imagine  she  had  come  with  one  bound  from  tending  her 
flock  on  the  hill-side,  to  warble  behind  the  foot-lights ;  for,  so 
directly  from  the  heart  of  nature  springs  her  melody,  and  so 
beyond  the  reach  of  art  is  the  simple  grace  of  her  air  and  man- 
ners, that  we  associate  her  with  the  opera  only  through  the  con- 
summate skill  —  the  result  of  scientific  trainini'  —  manifested  in 
her  vocalism.  The  term  warbling  is  thus  adapted  peculiarly  to 
express  the  character  of  her  style  ;  its  ease,  flnency,  spontaneous 
gush,  and  the  total  absence  of  everything  meretricious  and 
exaggerated  in  the  action  and  bearing  that  accompany  it.  It 
is  like  the  song  of  a  bird,  only  more  human.  Natune  in  her 
seems  to  have  taken  Art  to  her  bosom,  and  assimilated  it, 
•through  love,  with  herself,  until  the  identity  of  each  is  lost  in 
the  other. 


JENNY     LIND.  235 

Her  career  in  the  United  States  was  signalized  by  the  same 
enthusiasm,  judicious  and  liberal  benefactions,  and  independence 
of  character.  She  was  repelled  by  the  "self-idolatry,"  as  she 
termed  it,  of  the  Americans,  and  forced  into  an  antagonistic 
social  attitude  by  the  encroachment  of  the  lionizing  mania ;  but, 
with  those  she  respected  and  loved,  her  manners  were  full  of 
sweetness.  The  blind,  the  aged,  the  poor,  followed  her  tri- 
umphant progress  with  benedictions.  She  remitted  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  of  her  American  earnings  to  establish  free 
schools  in  Sweden.  Her  marriage  took  place  in  Boston;  and 
one  of  the  leading  journals  thus  truly  chronicled  the  results  of 
her  visit : 

'•  The  Swedish  Nightingale  has  folded  her  wings  and  hushed 
her  song  for  a  time,  and  betakes  herself  to  the  enjoyment  of  a 
little  rest,  after  her  year's  great  and  incessant  labors.  It  is  very 
nearly  twelve  months  since  she  arrived  on  our  shores,  and,  up  to 
this  moment,  she  has  been  almost  constantly  before  the  public. 
She  has  given  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  concerts,  and  has 
travelled  more  than  sixteen  thousand  miles,  in  various  parts  of 
the  United  States,  and  in  Cuba.  How  enthusiastically  her  won- 
drous song  has  been  greeted  by  the  tens  of  thousands  who  have 
flocked  to  listen  to  it,  the  press  has  faithfully  and  minutely 
chronicled,  as  her  brilliant  progress  has  extended  itself  over  the 
land.  Never  was  there  a  more  powerful  impression  made  by  any 
artist  who  has  ever  been  among  us,  and  never  a  richer  fund  of 
private  respect  and  regard  accumulated  by  any  stranger  visiting 
our  shores.  Her  personal  virtues  have  won  as  much  upon  our 
countrymen's  and  countrywomen's  love,  as  her  wonderful  music 
has  upon  their  admiration  and  delight." 

The  union  of  such  musical  science,  such  thoroughly  disciplined 
art,  with  such  artlessness  and  simplicity,  is,  perhaps,  the  crowning 
mystery  of  her  genius.  To  know  and  to  love  are  the  conditions 
of  triumph  in  all  the  exalted  spheres  of  human  labor ;  and,  in 
the  musical  drama,  they  have  never  been  so  admirably  united. 
Her  command  of  expression  seems  not  so  much  the  result  of 
study  as  of  inspiration ;  and  there  is  about  her  a  certain  gentle 
elevation  which  stamps  her  to  every  eye  as  one  who  is  conse- 
crated to  a  high  service. 


286  THE    VOCALIST. 

Her  ingenuous  countenance,  always  enlivened  by  an  active 
intelligence,  might  convey,  at  first,  chiefly  the  idea  of  good- 
nature and  clfeverness  in  the  English  sense ;  but  her  carriage, 
voice,  movements,  and  expression,  in  the  more  affecting  moments 
of  a  drama,  give  sympathetic  assurance  of  what  we  must  be 
excused  for  calling  a  crystal  soul.  In  all  her  characters  she 
transports  us,  at  once,  away  from  the  commonplace  and  the  arti- 
ficial— if  not  always  into  the  domain  of  lofty  idealism,  into  the 
more  human  and  blissful  domain  of  primal  nature ;  and  unhappy 
is  the  being  who  finds  not  the  unconscious  delight  of  childhood, 
or  the  dream  of  love,  momentarily  renewed  in  that  serene  and 
unclouded  air. 

In  accordance  with  this  view  of  Jenny  Lind's  characteristics, 
the  enthusiasm  she  excited  in  England  is  alluded  to  by  the  lead- 
ing critics  as  singularly  honest.  No  musical  artist,  indeed,  was 
ever  so  fitted  to  win  Anglo-Saxon  sympathies.  She  has  the 
morale  of  the  North ;  and  does  not  awaken  the  prejudice  so 
common  in  Great  Britain,  and  so  truly  described  in  "  Corinne," 
against  the  passionate  temperament  and  tendency  to  extravagance 
that  mark  the  children  of  the  South.  No  candidate  for  public 
favor  was  ever  so  devoid  of  the  ordinary  means  of  attaining  it. 
There  is  something  absurd  in  making  such  a  creature  the  mere 
nucleus  of  fashionable  vanity,  or  the  object  of  that  namby-pamby 
criticism  that  busies  itself  with  details  of  personal  appearance 
and  French  terms  of  compliment.  Jenny  Lind  is  not  beautiful ; 
she  does  not  take  her  audiences  by  storm ;  she  exercises  no  intox- 
icating physical  magnetism  over  their  sensitive  natures.  She  is 
not  classic  either  in  form  of  feature,  or  manner,  or  style  of  sing- 
ing. Her  loveliness  as  a  woman,  her  power  as  an  artist,  her  grace 
as  a  character,  lies  in  expression ;  and  that  expression  owes  its 
variety  and  its  enchantment  to  unaffected  truth  to  nature,  senti- 
ment, and  the  principles  of  art. 

*•  A  melody  with  Southern  passion  fraught 

I  hear  thee  warble  :  't  is  as  if  a  bird 
By  intuition  human  strains  had  caught. 

But  whose  pure  breast  no  kindred  feeling  stirred. 
Thy  native  song  the  hushed  arena  fills, 

So  wildly  plaintive,  that  I  seem  to  stand 


JENNYLIND.  237 

Alone,  and  see,  from  off  the  circling  hills. 

The  bi'ight  horizon  of  the  North  expand  ! 
High  art  is  thus  intact ;  and  matchless  skill 

Born  of  intelligence  and  self-control,  — 
The  graduated  tone  and  perfect  trill 

Prove  a  restrained,  but  not  a  frigid  soul ; 
Thine  finds  expression  in  such  generous  deeds, 
That  music  from  thy  lips  for  human  sorrows  pleads  !  " 


THE  CHRISTIAN  PHILOSOPHER 

GEORGE   BERKELEY. 


The  relation  of  this  country  to  Europe,  as  it  is  rendered  more 
intimate  bj  the  facilities  of  modern  intercourse  and  the  increase 
of  emigration,  assumes  a  greater  historical  interest.  When  a 
long,  tedious,  and  comparatively  perilous  voyage  divided  us  from 
the  Old  "World,  the  advent  of  a  band  of  exiles  or  adventurers,  or 
the  sojourn  of  a  distinguished  foreigner,  was  a  memorable  incident. 
The  primitive  reverence  and  attachment  which  bound  the  early 
colonists  to  their  fatherland,  their  dependence  for  intellectual 
resources  upon  an  older  civilization,  and  the  nucleus  afforded  by 
a  vast  and  unappropriated  country  for  the  establishment  and 
growth  of  political  and  religious  minorities  transplanted  from 
ancient  states  and  hierarchies,  combined  to  render  the  arrival  of  a 
refugee,  an  experimentalist,  a  member  of  a  proscribed  sect,  or  the 
advocate  of  an  original  scheme  or  doctrine,  an  event  fraught  witli 
incalculable  results  and  singular  attraction.  The  motives,  carecj*, 
and  influence,  of  the  gifted,  the  unfortunate,  and  the  philanthropic 
men,  who  have  thus  sought  an  asylum  and  an  arena  in  America, 
would  form  a  chapter  in  our  history  second  to  none  in  importance 
and  romance.  It  would  include  the  agency  of  puritan  and  cava- 
lier, of  missionary  and  gold-seeker,  of  the  thrifty  Dutchman,  the 
mercurial  Gaul,  the  Spanish  soldier,  of  priest,  statesman,  and 
trader,  in  moulding  the  original  elements  of  national  life;  and 
from  these  general  types  it  would  descend  to  the  more  temporary 
but  not  less  illustrious  examples  of  the  chosen  few  who  came 


GEORGE     BERKELEY.  239 

hither  to  report  the  unrecorded  wonders  of  a  fresh  continent,  to 
examine  its  natural  features,  direct  its  policy,  assert  the  claims 
of  discovery  and  supremacy,  minister  to  its  wants,  and  do  battle 
for  its  liberties.  To  the  eye  of  the  philosopher  and  the  hero 
of  Europe,  this  has  ever  been  the  land  of  infinite  possibilities ; 
here  scope  was  yielded  to  enterprise  and  thought,  to  courage  and 
ambition,  to  usefulness  and  faith,  when  their  development  else- 
where was  checked  by  tyranny,  overgrown  population,  conven- 
tionalism, exhausted  means,  and  despotic  prejudice.  The  obsta- 
cles thus  impending  on  the  one  side  of  the  ocean,  and  the  free 
range  open  on  the  other,  gave  extraordinary  impulse,  not  only  to 
the  latent  forces  of  society,  but  to  those  of  individual  character. 
Hence  the  new  phases  of  life,  and  the  salient  evolutions  of  opinion 
and  effort,  discoverable  in  the  memoirs  of  the  first  transatlantic 
visitors.  Their  history  contains  some  of  the  noblest  and  the  most 
despicable  exhibitions  of  human  nature ;  all  that  is  generous  and 
base  in  character,  —  chivalry  and  selfishness,  the  high-minded 
and  the  rapacious,  the  benefactor  and  the  foe  of  mankind,  — 
alternate  in  the  chronicle:  science  and  bigotry,  philanthropy  and 
avarice,  the  saint  and  the  ruffian,  stand  out  upon  the  virgin  page 
of  our  primitive  annals,  the  more  distinctly  and  impressively 
because  of  the  solitary  back-ground  of  an  unsettled  country,  and 
the  limitless  perspective  of  its  subsequent  growth. 

The  annalist  finds,  in  each  company  of  Europeans  who  orig- 
inally explored  the  forests  and  navigated  the  streams  of  America, 
a  representative  man  around  whom  the  colony  or  roving  band  is 
grouped  on  the  uncrowded  canvas  of  our  early  history ;  and  the 
difference  of  nation,  aim,  and  fiiith,  is  indicated  at  a  glance  by 
their  very  names.  What  varied  associations  and  opposite  ele- 
ments of  character  are  suggested  by  the  figures  thus  delineated, 
of  De  Soto  and  Penn,  Lord  Baltimore  and  Hendrick  Hudson, 
Roger  Williams  and  Father  Marquette  !  When  the  zeal  for  gain 
and  the  enthusiasm  of  adventure  and  religion  had  somewhat  de- 
clined, liberal  curiosity  and  humane  sympathies  influenced  another 
class  of  men  to  seek  our  shores.  The  noble  volunteers  from 
abroad  who  rallied  under  the  standard  of  Washington  occupy  the 
most  honored  place  on  this  magnanimous  roll,  —  Lafayette,  Steu- 
ben, Pulaski,  and  their  brave  compeers ;  and  when  peace  regained 


240  THE     CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

her  empire  consecrated  bj  freedom,  the  champions  of  science  and 
truth  began  to  turn  their  aspirations  in  the  same  direction, — some 
urged  by  persecution,  and  others  bj  the  ardor  of  discovery  and 
beneficence.  Priestley,  after  the  destruction  of  his  laboratory  by 
a  Birmingham  mob,  brought  hither  the  fearless  spirit  of  inquiry 
and  experiment  that  inspired  his  ingenious  mind ;  Volney  turned 
his  sceptical  gaze  from  the  decaying  monuments  of  the  Elder 
World,  to  primeval  nature  in  the  New ;  Whitefield  breathed  here 
the  eloquent  appeals  that  had  previously  kindled  the  English  dis- 
senters ;  Humboldt  came  to  take  the  altitude  of  our  mountains ; 
Michaux,  to  wander  with  delight  through  our  glorious  woodlands ; 
Cobbet,  to  publish  without  restraint  his  political  and  economical 
maxims ;  Wilson,  to  give  names  to  the  feathered  tribe ;  and  Cha- 
teaubriand, to  make  the  pilgrimage  of  a  poet  to  the  Falls  of  Niag- 
ara ;  Copley  came  to  set  up  his  easel  in  Boston,  and  delineate  our 
colonial  aristocracy  in  their  velvet  coats,  lace  ruffles,  huge  wigs, 
and  brocade  robes  ;  Talleyrand,  Moreau,  and  Louis  Philippe,  found 
a  temporary  shelter  from  persecution  among  us,  and  a  primitive 
simplicity  of  manners  and  government  which  contrasted  strangely 
with  the  old  regime  of  their  native  courts  and  armies ;  Genet 
vainly  attempted  to  graft  a  radical  disaffection  on  the  yet  tender 
institutions  of  our  republic ;  Emmet  brought  the  forensic  elo- 
quence of  the  Irish  bar  and  the  patriot  regrets  of  an  exile ;  Joseph 
Bonaparte,  the  philosophic  content  of  a  kindly  heart,  weary  of 
the  "smooth  barbarity"  of  regal  care;  and  Francis  Jeffrey  was 
drawn  hither  by  the  tender  passion,  and  made  New  York  dining- 
rooms  familiar  with  the  complacent  sprightliness  of  an  Edinburgh 
critic.  Then  succeeded  the  swarm  of  cockney  travellers,  whose 
egotistical  comments  proved  so  annoying  to  the  sensitive  pride  of 
embryo  nationality ;  and  after  them  the  ephemeral  race  of  lions, 
—  authors  and  actors,  —  who  often  proved  so  recreant  to  the 
memory  of  a  public  appreciation  too  frank  and  hospitable  for  their 
merits,  —  itinerant  lecturers,  pretentious  strangers,  fastidious  pil- 
grims, whose  casual  triumph  was  followed  by  enduring  contempt ; 
and  interspersed  with  these,  men  of  higher  faculty  and  less  selfish 
aims,  worthy  ministers  at  the  altar  of  knowledge,  who  observed 
the  phenomena  of  our  development  with  the  insight  of  philosophy 
and  the  sentiment  of  humanity,  —  such  as  the  lamented  Spurz- 


GEORGE     BERKELEY.  241 

heim,  the  candid  Lyell,  and  the  analytical  De  Tocqueville.  It 
is,  indeed,  a  curious  study  and  an  amusing  experiment,  thus  to 
compare  the  impressions  of  the  illustrious  visitors  to  America., 
from  Charlevoix's  quaint  travels  to  Tom  Moore's  lampoons  and 
"  Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp,"  and  from  Kossuth's  speeches  to 
Thackeray's  table-talk. 

Among  the  traces  yet  discoverable  of  the  American  sojourn  of 
celebrated  individuals  during  the  youth  of  the  country,  none  arc 
more  pleasing,  or  more  -svorthy  of  commemoration,  than  those 
•whicli  yet  keep  fresh  the  memory  of  George  Berkeley.  He  is 
known  to  the  multitude  chiefly  by  the  frequent  quotation  of  his 
prophetic  stanza,  and  by  one  of  those  terse  compliments  with 
which  the  heroics  of  Pope  abound.  It  is,  therefore,  a  grateful 
task  to  recall  the  details  of  his  life  and  the  prominent  traits 
of  his  character,  associated  as  they  are  with  a  public  spirit  and 
generous  projects,  of  which,  for  many  years,  this  land  was  the 
chosen  scene. 

When  Shaftesbury,  in  phrases  of  studied  elegance,  was  advo- 
cating a  modified  Platonic  system,  and  Bishop  Sherlock  repre- 
sented the  eloquence  of  the  church ;  when  Swift's  pungent  satire 
ruled  in  politics,  and  Pope's  finished  couplets  were  the  exemplars 
of  poetry ;  when  Sir  Robert  Walpole's  ministry  and  Queen  Caro- 
line's levees  were  the  civic  and  social  features  of  the  day,  there 
moved,  in  the  circles  of  literature,  of  state,  and  of  religious  fellow- 
ship, one  of  those  men  to  whom,  by  virtue  of  their  guileless  spirit 
and  ingenious  minds,  their  sweet  repose  of  character,  gentle  man- 
ners, and  speculative  tendency,  we  instinctively  give  the  name  of 
philosopher.  Amid  the  partisan  bitterness  and  critical  rivalry  of 
that  era,  a  contemplative  habit  and  kindly  heart  offer  a  refresh- 
ing contrast  to  the  more  aspiring  and  malevolent  elements  in 
society.  A  rare  dignity  and  a  potent  charm  invest  the  memory 
of  the  peaceful  and  disinterested  enthusiast.  He  purifies  the  tur- 
bid stream  of  intellectual  life,  and  hallows  the  pursuit  of  fame. 
Of  this  class  of  men  was  George  Berkeley,  who  was  born  at 
Kilcrinin,  Ireland,  March  12th,  1684.  The  period  embraced  in 
his  life  was  one  of  great  political  activity  and  scientific  achieve- 
ment. He  occupied  at  the  school  on  the  Ormond  foundation  at 
Kilkenny,  the  form  where,  shortly  before,  Swift  had  studied. 
21 


242  THE      CHRISTIAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

Locke,  Leibnitz,  Bajle,  and  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  died  between  his 
childhood  and  his  mature  fame. 

His  countenance  was  remarkably  expressive  of  intellect  and 
benevolence.  His  strength  of  limbs  was  unusual ;  his  constitu- 
tion was  naturally  robust,  though  gradually  impaired  by  the 
inactivity  of  a  student's  life ;  and  an  ardent  temperament 
animated  his  frame  and  manner,  and  enhanced  the  effect  of  his 
candid  disposition  and  attractive  intellect.  To  these  obvious 
charms  were  united  the  confidence  inspired  by  his  integrity  and 
his  liberal  sympathies,  and  the  respect  cherished  for  his  learning 
and  piety.  His  life  was  comparatively  uneventful ;  its  interest 
is  derived  almost  wholly  from  his  character  and  opinions ;  yet  his 
lot  was  cast  at  a  period  and  among  influences  singularly  favorable 
to  the  gratification  of  his  tastes  and  the  exercise  of  his  powers. 
To  a  childhood  passed  in  Ireland  we  ascribe,  at  least,  a  degree  of 
the  frank  warmth  of  feeling  and  the  imaginative  zest  which 
endeared  him  to  contemporaries.  The  suspicion  of  Jacobite  opin- 
ions, the  unfavorable  effect  of  which  upon  Lord  Gal  way  was 
diverted  by  Molyneux,  a  former  pupil,  seems  first  to  have 
directed  public  attention  to  his  merits.  After  becoming  a  fellow 
of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  he  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  foreign 
travel,  as  companion  to  a  son  of  the  Bishop  of  Clogher ;  and  soon 
afterwards  received  the  appointment  of  chaplain  to  the  Duke  of 
Grafton,  lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland.  Through  Sir  Richard  Steele 
he  became  known  to  the  Earl  of  Peterborough,  who  took  him  to 
Italy  as  chaplain.  On  his  promotion  to  the  deanery  of  Derry,  in 
1724:,  he  resigned  his  fellowship.  He  subsequently  visited 
America  on  his  self-imposed  mission,  returned  to  become  Bishop 
of  Cloyne,  and  died  at  Oxford,  whither  he  had  repaired  to  super- 
intend the  education  of  his  sons,  in  1753.  To  learning  and 
benevolence  his  whole  existence  was  devoted.  He  illustrated  the 
sentiments  of  Christianity  more  by  his  example  as  a  man  than 
by  his  functions  as  a  priest ;  and,  throughout  his  career,  he  was 
a  vigilant  observer  of  nature,  a  patient  student  of  books,  a  min- 
ister to  the  wants  of  his  race,  an  earnest  seeker  for  psychologi- 
cal truth,  and  a  delightful  specimen  of  the  genuine  Christian 
philosopher. 

Berkeley's  metaphysical  opinions  are  known  under  the  generic 


GEORGE     BERKELEY.  24S 

title  of  the  '•'  Ideal  Theory,"  according  to  ^hich  "  the  belief  in 
an  exterior  material  world  is  false  and  inconsistent  with  itself ; 
those  things  which  are  called  sensible,  material  objects  are  not 
external,  but  exist  in  the  mind  by  the  immediate  act  of  God, 
according  to  certain  rules,  termed  laws  of  nature,  from  which  he 
never  deviates  ;  and  that  the  steady  adherence  of  the  Supreme 
Spirit  to  these  rules  is  what  constitutes  the  reality  of  things  to  his 
creatures  ;  and  so  effectually  distinguishes  the  ideas  perceived  by 
sense  from  such  as  are  the  w^ork  of  the  mind  itself,  or  of  dreams, 
and  there  is  no  more  danger  of  confounding  them  together  on  this 
hypothesis  than  that  of  the  existence  of  matter."  "It  is  an 
opinion,"  he  observes,  in  "  The  Principles  of  Human  Knowl- 
edge," "  strongly  prevailing  among  men,  that  houses,  mountains, 
rivers,  and,  in  a  word,  all  sensible  objects,  have  an  existence  natu- 
ral, real,  distinct  from  their  being  perceived  by  the  understanding. 
What  are  the  forementioned  objects  but  the  things  we  perceive 
by  sense,  and  what  do  we  perceive  beside  our  own  ideas  and  sens- 
ations ?  All  those  bodies  which  compose  the  mighty  frame  of 
the  world  have  not  any  subsistence  without  a  mind."  The  germ 
of  this  philosophy  appears  in  Berkeley's  "Theory  of  Vision," 
which  has  been  aptly  described  as 'illustrating  "the  immediate 
presence  and  providence  of  the  Deity,"  and  as  "a  practical 
apprehension  of  idealism."  Stewart  assimilates  it  with  the 
theories  of  Hindoo  philosophers,  who,  according  to  Sir  William 
Jones,  thought  "  the  whole  creation  was  rather  an  energy  than  a 
work^  by  which  the  Infinite  Mind,  who  is  present  at  all  times 
and  in  all  places,  exhibits  to  his  creatures  a  set  of  perceptions 
like  a  wonderful  picture,  or  a  piece  of  music,  always  varied,  yet 
always  uniform."  The  practical  effect  of  such  views,  in  the 
opinion  of  some  of  Berkeley's  opponents,  is  in  the  highest  degree 
baneful;  and  Bishop  Hoadley  thought  they  "corrupted  the 
nature  and  simplicity  of  religion  by  blending  it  with  the  subtlety 
and  obscurity  of  metaphysics."  The  singular  purity  of  Berke- 
ley's faith,  and  the  integrity  of  his  character,  in  the  opinion  of 
some  of  his  religious  friends,  could  alone  have  furnished  an  anti- 
dote for  the  bane  of  his  philosophical  doctrines. 

Berkeley  is  recognized  by  standard  psychological  writers  as 
having  contributed  a  positive  and  brilliant  truth  to  their  science 


244  THE     CHRISTIAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

in  his  "  Theory  of  Vision."     The  doctrine  is  thus  briefly  stated 
in  an  article  attributed  to  J.  Stewart  Mill : 

*'  Of  the  information  which  we  appear  to  receive,  and  which  we 
really  do,  in  the  maturity  of  our  faculties,  receive,  through  the 
eye,  a  part  only  is  originally  and  instinctively  furnished  by  that 
sense  ;  the  remainder  is  the  result  of  experience.  The  sense  of 
sight  informs  of  nothing  originally  except  light  and  colors,  and  a 
certain  arrangement  of  colored  lines  and  points.  This  arrange- 
ment constitutes  what  are  called  by  opticians  and  astronomers 
apparent  figure,  apparent  position,  and  apparent  magnitude ;  of 
real  figure,  position,  and  magnitude,  the  eye  teaches  us  nothing ; 
these  are  facts  revealed  exclusively  by  the  sense  of  touch.  We 
judge  an  object  to  be  more  distant  from  us  by  the  diminution  of 
its  apparent  magnitude,  that  is,  by  linear  perspective,  or  by  that 
dimness  or  faintness  of  color  which  generally  increases  with  dis- 
tance, or,  in  other  words,  by  aerial  perspective.  Berkeley  alleges 
that,  to  a  person  born  blind  and  suddenly  made  to  see,  all  objects 
would  seem  to  be  in  his  eye,  or  rather  in  his  mind.  It  would  be 
more  correct  to  say  such  a  person  would,  at  first,  have  no  concep- 
tion of  hi  or  outy  and  would  only  be  conscious  of  colors,  and  not 
of  objects."* 

By  this  work  Berkeley  met  a  great  problem  of  human  nature, 
and,  it  appears  to  us,  in  a  way  which,  so  far  from  tending  to  mate- 
rialism and  scepticism,  involves,  in  the  last  analysis,  a  profound 
recognition  of  the  spiritual  being  and  destiny  of  man.  Hume  may 
have  drawn  from  it  arguments  which,  at  the  first  glance,  seem  to 
favor  his  disbelief  in  the  foundations  of  religious  faith  ;  but  it  is 
evident  that  the  reverse  was  the  case  with  Berkeley,  who  was  one 
of  the  most  ardent  and  skilful  opponents  of  the  infidelity  of  his 
day.  Much  of  the  discussion  which  his  metaphysical  views  ex- 
cited was  devoted  to  words  rather  than  to  ideas.  All  our  external 
experience  is,  in  point  of  fact,  but  a  series  of  impressions  ;  the 
question  is,  how  they  are  produced ;  and  the  chief  peculiarity  of 
Berkeley  was,  that  he  ascribed  a  larger  share  of  this  process  to  the 
mind,  and  less  to  the  senses,  than  his  predecessors.  His  error, 
perhaps,  consisted  not  in  false  premises,  but  in  conclusions  broader 

*  Westminster  Review,  vol.  xxxviii.,  p.  318. 


GEORGE     BERKELEY.  245 

than  his  premises  would  warrant.  The  idea  which  lies  at  the  root 
of  his  philosophy,  so  clearly  developed  in  the  "  Theory  of  Vis- 
ion," has  been  accepted  by  the  best  thinkers;  but  the  elaboration 
of  this  idea  into  a  complete  system  of  immaterialism  in  the 
''  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge "  finds  comparatively  few 
adherents.  It  is  in  this  extreme  application  that  truth  becomes 
vague,  and  the  philosopher  gives  place  to  the  dreamer.  None  the 
less,  however,  on  this  account,  should  we  acknowledge  our  obli- 
gations to  Berkeley  as  a  pioneer  in  the  most  difficult  theme  of 
human  inquiry.  That  was  but  a  dogmatical  argument  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  who,  in  reference  to  this  doctrine  of  the  non-existence 
of  matter,  said,  as  he  kicked  a  stone,  "I  refute  it  thus ;  "  for 
Berkeley  never  called  in  question  the  fact  of  sensation,  but  con- 
tended that  the  sensation  and  its  causes  existed  only  in  the  mind. 
Bayle,  speaking  of  his  "  Theory  of  Vision,"  declares  that,  of 
all  Berkeley's  writings,  it  is  that,  "qui  fait  Ic  plus  honneur  a  sa 
sagacite  et  le  premier  ou  Ton  ait  entrepris  de  distinguer  les  opera- 
tions immediates  de  sens,  des  inductions  que  nous  tirons  habituelle- 
ment  de  nos  sensations.""^  "The  doctrine  of  this  Tlieory  of 
Vision,"  says  the  reviewer  already  quoted,  "  has  remained  one 
of  the  least  disputed  doctrines  in  the  most  disputed  and  most  dis- 
putable of  all  sciences  —  the  science  of  man." 

It  would  far  exceed  the  scope  of  our  present  object,  however, 
to  analyze  the  argument  and  cite  the  illustrations  by  which  Berke- 
ley endeavors  to  prove  his  bold  formula.  Those  interested  in 
the  subject  will  find  in  the  volumes  devoted  to  it  an  exposition 
remarkable  for  beautiful  simplicity  of  style,  clearness  of  state- 
ment, and  ingenious  reasoning ;  and,  if  unimpressed  with  its 
logic,  they  cannot  fail  to  be  charmed  with  its  tone,  and  won  by 
many  a  glimpse  of  the  mysterious  analogies  which  link  our 
spiritual  consciousness  with  outward  experience.  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  thus  estimates  Berkeley  as  a  mental  philosopher  : 
"  His  immaterialism  is  chiefly  valuable  as  a  touchstone  of  meta- 
physical sagacity,  showing  them  to  be  altogether  without  it,  who, 
like  Johnson  and  Beattie,  believe  that  his  speculations  were  scep- 
tical,  that  they  implied  any  dishonesty,   or  that  they  had  the 

*  Biographie  Universelle. 

21* 


246  THE     CHRISTIAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

smallest  tendency  to  disturb  reasoning  or  to  alter  conduct."  Of 
his  style,  Sir  James  remarks:  ''It  is  the  finest  model  of  the 
philosophical  since  Cicero;"  and  elsewhere,  alluding  to  his  last 
tract,  he  says:  "His  immaterialism,  indeed,  modestly  appears, 
but  only  to  purify  and  elevate  our  thoughts,  and  to  fix  them  on 
mind  —  the  paramount  and  primeval  principle  of  all  things." 

The  origin  of  works  that  betray  strong  individuality  is  always 
an  interesting  subject  of  inquiry.  The  varied  learning  and  the 
charitable  instincts  of  Berkeley  might  have  found  ample  scope  in 
the  exercise  of  his  profession;  and  the  tendeqcy  of  his  mind  was 
towards  the  natural  and  exact  sciences,  as  is  evident  from  the 
objects  which  attracted  him  in  travel,  and  the  books  and  compan- 
ions he  sought.  He  adventured  in  the  field  of  metaphysics  in 
consequence  of  the  excitement  his  young  imagination  derived 
from  works  of  fiction,  and  the  subsequent  reaction  of  his  judgment 
and  taste  from  the  prescribed  text-books  in  mental  philosophy  at 
the  University ;  and  he  was  still  further  inspired  by  the  enthu- 
siasm for  such  investigations  awakened  by  the  writings  of  Locke 
and  Malebranche.  These  causes  fixed  his  thoughts  on  the  study 
of  our  mysterious  nature ;  and  the  ideas  he  .evolved  were  enhanced 
in  value  by  the  ardor  of  his  disposition,  and  were  the  more  strongly 
advocated  because  vehemently  opposed.  The  form  of  dialogues 
imitated  from  Plato,  in  which  some  of  his  principal  treatises  are 
cast,  gives  them  an  obsolete  air ;  and  the  main  problem  he  under- 
took to  solve,  viewed  apart  from  his  acute  arguments,  is  one  of 
those  broad  generalizations  which  it  is  far  easier  for  less  noble 
minds  to  ridicule  than  to  appreciate. 

.  It  is  remarkable  that  Berkeley's  min^,  though  so  visionary  in 
speculation,  was  keenly  observant  and  exact.  When  the  "  Minute 
Philosopher  "  was  republished  in  this  country,  it  excited  unusual 
attention,  and  was  esteemed  an  excellent  argument  against  irreli- 
gion,  though  somewhat  too  elaborate  and  dry  for  prolonged  popu- 
larity. A  marked  resemblance  has  been  traced  between  parts  of 
this  work  and  Butler's  Analogy.  Besides  his  metaphysical  writ- 
ings, a  mathematical  treatise  in  Latin,  a  number  of  controvei-sial 
tracts,  occasional  sermons,  and  a  few  of  his  letters,  admit  us  still 
further  into  a  knowledge  of  his  opinions  and  disposition.  In 
every  instance  these  casual  efforts  are  inspired  by  an  enthusiasm 


<  GEORGE     BERKELEY.  247 

for  truth,  which,  he  quaintly  says,  "  is  the  cry  of  all,  but  the 
game  of  few,"  or  by  a  desire  to  enlighten  and  benefit  others. 
The  titles  of  these  writings  indicate  their  purpose  :  —  "A  Dis- 
course to  an  Infidel  Mathematician;"  another  to  "Magistrates 
on  Irreligious  Living;"  "  A  Word  to  the  Wise,"  wherein  he 
successfully  sought  to  pacify  the  Catholic  clergy  of  Ireland  and 
promote  more  liberal  feelings  towards  them;  "  The  Querist,"  in 
which  many  useful  and  benevolent  suggestions  are  offered  for  the 
public  welfare,  and  several  original  hints  are  given  worthy  of  a 
political  economist,  before  the  science  had  att«xined  its  present  con- 
sideration; "  A  Proposal  for  better  supplying  Churches  in  our 
Foreign  Plantations."  Every  one  has  read  tlie  pensive  descrip- 
tion of  the  old  South-sea  house  in  London,  in  which  Lamb  reveals 
in  mellow  tints  its  monitory  decay.  When  the  distress  incident 
to  the  failure  of  that  splendid  scheme  was  rife,  Berkeley  improved 
the  occasion  to  offer  suggestions  both  of  warning  and  counsel 
worthy  of  his  sagacious  mind  and  benevolent  heart.  As  a  writer 
he  was  thus  of  great  immediate  utility,  especially  as  the  affection- 
ate esteem  in  which  he  was  held  gave  sanction  to  his  counsels. 
When  we  examine  his  literary  remains,  however,  with  the  more 
concise  and  varied  forms  of  didactic  writing  brought  into  vogue 
during  the  last  half-century  fresh  in  our  minds,  there  appears  a 
want  of  life  and  brilliancy  in  his  most  sensible  remarks.  Ilis 
style,  however  deserving  of  eulogy  as  a  medium  for  abstract  dis- 
cussion, is  somewhat  monotonous  and  diffuse,  more  that  of  a 
scholarly  sermonizer  than  of  a  modern  essayist.  And  yet  it  is 
impossible  to  recur  to  his  candid  and  ingenious  writings,  in  which 
an  intrepid  love  of  truth  and  a  liberal  grace  of  character  seem  to 
breathe  from  the  uncxaggerated,  clear,  and  tranquil  diction,  with- 
out feeling  a  certain  admiration  of  the  author,  springing  from  love 
for  the  man,  more  than  from  sympathy  with  the  pliilosopher. 
His  extensive  knowledge  and  catholic  tastes  are  apparent  even  in 
the  advocacy  of  his  special  opinions,  and  the  genial  light  of  a 
humane,  bold,  and  comprehensive  mind,  gives  a  charm  to  ideas 
that  often  have  no  present  importance,  and  to  objects  for  some 
of  which  it  is  no  longer  needful  to  plead. 

It  was  a  sagacious  remark  of  Madame  de  Stael,  that  when  we 
are  much  attached  to  our  ideas  we  endeavor  to  connect  everything 


248  THE     CHRISTIAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

with  them :  and  seldom  has  this  trait  of  the  intellectual  enthu- 
siast been  more  emphatically  illustrated  than  in  the  case  of 
Berkeley.  Whenever  his  feelings  were  enlisted  in  behalf  of  a 
theory  or  an  enterprise,  he  derived  an  argument  or  a  charm  from 
the  most  distant  associations.  One  of  the  last  of  his  favorite 
ideas  was  a  faith  in  the  curative  qualities  of  tar-water,  which  had 
proved  useful  in  a  malady  under  which  he  suffered.  His  treatise 
on  the  subject  deserves  no  mean  rank  among  the  curiosities  of 
literature.  The  research,  ingenuity,  and  scholarship,  elicited  by 
his  ardent  plea  for  this  specific,  evince  a  patient  and  elaborate 
contemplation  seldom  manifest  in  the  discussion  of  the  most  com- 
prehensive questions.  He  analyzes  the  diflferent  balsams,  from 
the  balm  of  Gilead  to  amber ;  he  quotes  Leo  Africanus  to  describe 
the  process  of  making  tar  on  Mount  Atlas,  ar\,d  compares  it  with 
that  used  in  New  England ;  he  cites  Herodotus  and  Pliny,  Theo- 
phrastus  and  Plato,  Boerhaave  and  Evelyn ;  he  surveys  the  whole 
domain  of  vegetable  physiology,  points  out  the  relation  of  volatile 
salts  to  the  economy  of  the  blood,  and  discusses  natural  history, 
the  science  of  medicine,  chemistry,  and  the  laws  of  life,  space, 
light,  and  the  soul  itself, —  all  with  ostensible  reference  to  the 
virtues  of  tar-water.  He  enumerates  every  conceivable  disease 
as  a  legitimate  subject  of  its  eflScacy ;  and.  while  thus  prolix  and 
irrelevant,  fuses  the  whole  with  good  sense,  fine  rhetoric,  and 
graceful  zeal. 

His  early  travels  form  a  pleasing  episode  in  his  life.  Though 
somewhat  restricted  by  professional  duties,  he  improved  every 
opportunity  to  observe  and  record  his  impressions.  The  few  let- 
ters from  Italy  published  in  his  memoirs  convey  the  zest  and 
intelligence  with  Avhich  he  enjoyed  his  tour,  and  his  affectionate 
remembrance  of  home.  He  was  repelled  by  the  "  cold,  trivial 
conceits  "  of  the  modern  Italian  poets,  and  hailed  their  newly 
awakened  interest  in  English  authors,  as  manifested  in  the  trans- 
lation of  Milton  that  had  just  appeared.  He  was  present  at  a 
disputation  at  the  Sorbonne  when  in  Paris,  and,  at  the  English 
college  there,  saw  the  body  of  the  last  king  James.  He  was  car- 
ried over  part  of  the  Alps  during  winter  in  a  chair.  From  the 
fact  that  all  volcanoes  are  near  the  sea,  he  inferred  a  vacuum 
caused  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  by  a  vast  body  of  inflammable 


GEORGE     BERKELEY.  24S 

matter  taking  fire,  the  water  rushing  in  and  being  converted  into 
steam,  which  gives  rise  to  the  eruption.  In  one  of  his  epistles  is 
a  minute  and  eloquent  description  of  the  island  of  Ischia,  which 
he  calls  "  an  epitome  of  the  whole  earth;"  in  another  he  gives 
an  account  of  the  people  of  Naples,  which  shows  that  they  lived 
a  century  and  a  half  ago  exactly  as  at  present. 

"  Would  you  know,"  he  asks,  "  how  we  pass  the  time  at  Na- 
ples ?  Our  chief  entertainment  is  the  devotion  of  our  neighbors. 
Besides  the  gayety  of  their  churches  (where  folks  go  to  see  what 
they  call  una  bella  devozione^  that  is,  a  sort  of  religious  opera), 
they  make  fireworks  almost  every  week,  out  of  devotion ;  the 
streets  are  often  hung  with  arras,  out  of  devotion ;  and,  what  is 
still  more  strange,  the  ladies  invite  gentlemen  to  their  houses,  and 
treat  them  with  umsic  and  sweetmeats,  out  of  devotion;  in  a 
word,  were  it  not  for  this  devotion  of  its  inhabitants,  Naples 
would  have  little  else  to  recommend  it,  except  the  air  and  situa- 
tion." 

The  following  passages  of  one  of  his  letters  to  Pope  are  charac- 
teristic : 

"  Leguorn,  May  1,  1714. 

"  As  I  take  ingratitude  to  be  a  greater  crime  than  impertinence, 
I  chpose  rather  to  run  the  risk  of  being  thought  guilty  of  the  lat- 
ter than  not  to  return  you  my  thanks  for  a  very  agreeable  enter- 
tainment you  just  now  gave  me.  I  have  accidently  met  with 
your  Rape  of  the  Lock  here,  having  never  seen  it  before.  Style, 
painting,  judgment,  spirit,  I  had  already  admired  in  other  of 
your  writings  ;  but  in  this  I  am  charmed  with  the  magic  of  your 
invention,  with  all  those  images,  allusions,  and  inexplicable  beau- 
ties, which  you  raise  so  surprisingly,  and  at  the  same  time  so 
naturally,  out  of  a  trifle.  And  yet  I  cannot  say  that  I  was  more 
pleased  with  the  reading  of  it  than  I  am  with  the  pretext  it  gives 
me  to  renew  in  your  thoughts  the  remembrance  of  one  who  values 
no  happiness  beyond  the  friendship  of  men  of  wit,  learning,  and 
good-nature. 

"I  remember  to  have  heard  you  mention  some  half-formed 
design  of  coming  to  Italy.  What  might  we  not  expect  from  a 
muse  that  sings  so  well  in  the  bleak  climate  of  England,  if  she 


250  THE    CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

felt  the  warm  sun,  and  breathed  the  same  air  with  Virgil  and 
Horace?" 

^  *  *  *  *  =^  * 

''Green  fields  and  groves,  flowery  meadows  and  purling 
streams,  are  nowhere  in  such  perfection  as  in  England ;  but  if 
you  would  know  lightsome  days,  warm  suns,  and  blue  skies,  you 
must  come  to  Italy  ;  and  to  enable  a  man  to  describe  rocks  and 
precipices,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  he  pass  the  Alps." 

As  chaplain  to  the  Earl  of  Peterborough,  Berkeley  preached 
regularly  at  the  English  factories  in  Leghorn,  and  used  to  relate 
with  much  humor  a  visit  he  there  received  from  a  troop  of  priests, 
who  walked  around  his  chamber,  sprinkling  holy  water,  and  mut- 
tering Latin  prayers.  He  imagined  the  ceremony  to  be  an  exor- 
cism of  heresy,  but  discovered  that  it  was  only  the  observance  of 
the  day  enjoined  by  the  Roman  calendar  for  blessing  the  house 
and  clearing  it  of  vermin.  Another  and  more  grave  adventure 
befell  him  at  Paris,  where  a  warm  and  protracted  argument  he 
held  with  Malebranche,  who,  in  a  dressing-gown,  and  over  a  pip- 
kin on  the  coals,  was  nursing  himself  for  an  inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  so  aggravated  the  disorder  as  to  cause  the  metaphysician's 
death  a  few  days  after.  While  at  Lyons  he  wrote  an  ingenious 
tract,  "De  Motu,"  and  sent  it  to  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sci- 
ences. It  is  deeply  to  be  regretted  that  his  copious  and  studi- 
ously gathered  notes  for  a  Natural  History  of  Sicily  —  the  fruit 
of  his  zealous  observation  there  —  were  lost,  with  his  journals,  at 
Naples. 

The  social  and  friendly  relations  of  Berkeley  well  illustrate 
both  his  character  and  his  position.  He  was  a  fiivorite  of  Queen 
Caroline,  at  whose  solrtes  spirited  discussions  of  his  theory  oc- 
curred between  himself,  Clark,  Hoadley,  and  Sherlock.  She  was 
in  the  habit  of  sending  for  him  to  talk  over  the  American  project ; 
and  when  her  generous  intentions  were  thwarted,  by  some  consid- 
erations of  etiquette,  that  prevented  his  obtaining  a  deanery  in 
Ireland,  she  declared  that  "  if  he  could  not  be  a  dean  he  should 
be  a  bishop,"  and  appointed  him  to  Cloyne.  Steele  and  Swift 
introduced  him  to  their  coteries  of  wits  and  to  men  of  influence. 
He  was  a  contributor  to  the  Guardian,  and,  to  his  great  surprise, 


GEORGE     BERKELEY.  251 

among  the  principal  heirs  of  Esther  Yanhomorigh  (Vanessa). 
No  prominent  man  of  that  day  enjoyed  so  many  permanent  and 
eligible  friendships.  Satire,  then  so  much  in  vogue,  was  melted 
into  kindness,  and  criticism  softened  to  eulogy,  when  his  name 
occurred  in  verse,  letter,  or  conversation.  Swift  could  not  sym- 
pathize with  his  dreams,  yet  he  earnestly  advocated  his  cause. 
Addison  laid  aside  his  constitutional  reserve  to  promote  Berke- 
ley's wishes.  Pope  made  an  exception  in  his  favor,  and  suffered 
encomium  to  remain  on  his  musical  page  unbalanced  by  censure. 
"  I  take  you,"  says  one  of  his  letters,  inviting  the  dean  to  Twick- 
enham, "to  be  almost  the  only  friend  I  have  that  is  above  the 
little  vanities  of  the  town."  Atterbury  declared,  after  an  inter- 
view with  him  :  "So  much  understanding,  so  much  innocence, 
and  such  humility,  I  did  not  think  had  been  the  portion  of  any 
but  angels,  until  I  saw  this  gentleman."  It  is  related  by  Lord 
Bathurst,  that,  on  one  occasion,  when  several  members  of  the 
Scriblerius  Club  met  at  his  house  to  dine,  it  was  agreed  to  rally 
Berkeley,  who  was  also  invited,  upon  his  American  scheme.  The 
latter  heard  the  merry  banter  with  the  utmost  good-nature,  and 
then  asked  permission  to  reply ;  and,  as  his  noble  host  afterwards 
declared,  "displayed  his  plan  with  such  an  astonishing  and  ani- 
mating fiery  eloquence  and  enthusiasm,  that  they  were  struck 
dumb,  and,  after  some  pause,  rose  all  up  together,  with  earnest- 
ness, exclaiming,  'Let  us  set  out  immediately!'"  When  he 
determined  to  make  Oxford  his  abode,  he  tendered  the  resigna- 
tion of  the  bishopric  of  Cloyne ;  but  the  king  refused  to  accept  it, 
declaring  that  he  "should  live  where  he  pleased  and  die  a  bishop." 
"He  is,"  writes  Warburton,  "a  great  man,  and  the  only  vision- 
ary I  ever  knew  that  was." 

Beloved  and  respected  as  he  was,  however,  and  not  without 
eminent  disciples  as  the  advocate  of  a  metaphysical  theory, 
Berkeley  seems  to  have  been  regarded  by  many  of  the  prominent 
men  of  his  day  as  an  amiable  dreamer.  "Poor  philosopher 
Berkeley,"  alluding  to  his  illness,  writes  Swift,  "has  now  the 
idea  of  health,  which  it  was  very  hard  to  produce  in  him,  for  he 
had  an  idea  of  a  strange  fever,  so  strong  that  it  was  very  hard  to 
destroy  it  by  introducing  a  contrary  one."  "I  have  not  seen 
D«an  Berkeley,"  writes  Gay  to  Swift,  "but  I  have  read  his  book 


252  THE     CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

(The  Minute  Philosopher),  and  like  many  parts  of  it;  but  in 
general  think,  with  you,  that  it  is  too  speculative."  When  one 
of  his  converts,  after  a  sharp  argument  during  an  evening  visit, 
rose  to  depart,  "Pray,  sir,"  said  Dr.  Johnson,  "don't  leave  us, 
for  we  may  perhaps  forget  to  think  of  you,  and  then  you  will 
cease  to  exist."  Similar  witticisms  are  of  frequent  occurrence  in 
the  anecdotes  preserved  of  his  illustrious  friends ;  and  even  'vvhen 
they  urged  those  in  power  to  aid  the  realization  of  his  benevolent 
enterprise,  the  plea  is  often  modified  by  some  compassionate  allu- 
sion to  that  romance  of  character  to  which  his  ardent  projects 
were  ascribed.  It  is,  however,  a  law  of  disinterested  action,  that, 
when  baffled  in  its  specific  aim,  incidental  good  is  sure  to  result ; 
and,  in  order  justly  to  estimate  the  personal  influence  of  Berke- 
ley in  the  world  of  opinion  and  the  cause  of  humanity,  we  must 
take  into  view  the  indirect  agency  of  his  doctrine,  the  casual  ser- 
vices he  fulfilled,  and  the  efficiency  of  the  spirit  he  was  of 
Thus  considered,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  example  and  writings 
of  few  church  dignitaries  have  proved  more  beneficent  and 
attractive. 

When  he  returned  home,  after  the  failure  of  his  college  scheme 
in  America,  he  instantly  paid  back  all  the  contributions  he  had 
received  in  aid  of  that  object.  When  he  became  the  legatee  of 
Swift's  indignant  mistress,  he  honorably  burned  all  her  love-let- 
ters.* His  last  act  at  Cloyne,  where  his  residence  had  been  fraught 
with  blessings  to  the  people,  was  to  sign  a  lease  of  the  demesne 
lands  there,  to  be  renewed  yearly,  at  a  rent  of  two  hundred 
pounds,  for  distribution  to  the  poor  of  the  neighborhood. 

He  enjoyed  true  philosophic  content.  "  We  behold  these  vicis- 
situdes," says  one  of  his  letters,  "  with  an  equal  eye  from  this 
serene  corner  of  Cloyne ;  "  and,  speaking  of  the  gout,  from  which 
he  occasionally  suffered,  he  observes,  "  It  throws  off  a  sharp  ex- 
crement from  the  blood  to  the  limbs  and  extremities  of  the  body, 
and  is  no  less  useful  than  painful."     The  following  passage  from 

*  It  was  said,  indeed,  that  Vanessa  made  it  a  condition  of  her  legacy,  that  her 
correspondence  with  Swift  should  be  published,  and  Berkeley  has  been  reproached 
for  its  non-fulfilment.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  his  Life  of  Swift,  explains  the  whole 
affair.  There  was  no  such  condition  in  the  will,  and,  although  Berkeley  destroyed 
the  letters,  his  co-heritor  retained  copies,  and  from  these  extracts  subsequently 
found  their  way  into  print. 


GEORGE    BERKELEY.  253 

another  letter  gives  us  a  charming  idea  of  the  same  spirit  -when 
age  began  to  subdue  his  vivacity : 

''  For  my  own  part/'  he  writes,  under  date  of  April  6,  1752, 
"I  submit  to  years  and  infirmities.  My  views  in  this  world  are 
mean  and  narrow ;  it  is  a  thing  in  which  I  have  a  small  share, 
and  which  ought  to  give  me  small  concern.  I  abhor  business, 
and  especially  to  have  to  do  with  great  persons  and  great  affairs. 
The  evening  of  life  I  choose  to  pass  in  a  quiet  retreat.  Ambi- 
tious projects,  intrigues'  and  quarrels  of  statesmen,  are  things  I 
have  formerly  been  amused  with,  but  they  noNv  seem  to  me  a  vain 
and  fugitive  dream.  We  have  nojt  the  transports  of  your  castle- 
hunters,  but  our  lives  are  calm  and  serene." 

The  love  of  retirement,  native  to  the  scholar,  was  confirmed  in 
Berkeley  by  domestic  affections.  His  wife  had  some  skill  in 
painting,  and  music  was  cultivated  in  the  family,  for  it  was  their 
custom  to  assemble  early  in  the  morning  to  receive  instruction  in 
that  art  from  an  Italian  professor.  The  day  the  bishop  passed  in 
his  study,  and  gave  the  evening  to  his  family  and  social  inter- 
course. Beautiful,  even  in  its  sadness,  was  the  death  of  this  benig- 
nant and  gifted  man,  and  singularly  appropriate  to  the  close  of 
such  a  life.  One  Sabbath  afternoon,  in  the  winter  of  1753,  as  he 
lay  on  a  couch,  in  the  full  possession  of  those  noble  faculties  he  had 
borne  so  meekly,  listening  to  one  of  Sherlock's  sermons,  his  wife 
beside  and  his  children  around  him,  the  gentle  and  exalted  spirit 
of  Berkeley  took  its  flight,  without  a  struggle,  and  so  quietly  that 
it  was  not  until  his  daughter,  approaching  him  to  offer  refresh- 
ment, found  his  hand  cold,  that  they  knew  he  was  no  more. 

Such  was  the  character  and  such  the  career  of  the  man  who,  a 
century  and  a  quarter  ago,  turned  manfully  from  the  allurements 
of  clerical  distinction  and  literary  society,  from  the  pleasures  of 
wealth  and  fame,  to  bring  religious  truth  and  intellectual  culture 
to  the  aborigines  of  this  continent ;  who  anticipated  its  marvellous 
destinies,  and  hailed  it  as  a  new  field  for  the  triumphs  of  human- 
ity. There  are  more  imposing  monuments  in  the  venerable  pre- 
cincts of  Oxford,  recalling  the  genius  which  hallows  our  ancestral 
literature,  but  at  the  tomb  of  Berkeley  we  linger  with  affection- 
ate reverence,  as  we  associate  the  gifts  of  his  mind  and  the  graces 
22 


254  THE    CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

of  his  spirit  -with  that  disinterested  and  memorable  visit  to  our 
country. 

In  1725,  Berkeley  published  his  proposals  in  explanation  of 
this  long-cherished  purpose ;  at  the  same  time  he  oifered  to  resign 
his  livings,  and  to  consecrate  the  remainder  of  his  days  to  this 
Christian  undertaking.  So  magnetic  vrere  his  appeal  and  exam- 
ple, that  three  of  his  brother  fellows  at  Oxford  decided  to  unite 
with  him  in  the  expedition.  Many  eminent  and  wealthy  persons 
•were  induced  to  contribute  their  influence  and  money  to  the 
cause.  But  he  did  not  trust  wholly  to  such  means.  Having 
ascertained  the  worth  of  a  portion  of  the  St.  Christopher's  lands 
ceded  by  France  to  Great  Britain  by  the  treaty  of  Utrecht,  and 
about  to  be  disposed  of  for  public  advantage,  he  undertook  to  real- 
ize from  them  larger  proceeds  than  had  been  anticipated,  and  sug- 
gested that  a  certain  amount  of  these  funds  should  be  devoted  to 
his  college.  Availing  himself  of  the  friendly  intervention  of  a 
Venetian  gentleman  whom  he  had  known  in  Italy,  he  submitted 
the  plan  to  George  I.,  who  directed  Sir  Robert  Walpole  to  carry 
it  through  parliament.  He  obtained  a  charter  for  "erecting  a 
college,  by  name  St.  Paul's,  in  Bermuda,  with  a  president  and 
nine  fellows,  to  maintain  and  educate  Indian  scholars,  at  the  rate 
of  ten  pounds  a  year,  George  Berkeley  to  be  the  first  president, 
and  his  companions  from  Trinity  College  the  fellows."  His  com- 
mission was  voted  May  11,  1726.  To  the  promised  amount  of 
twenty  thousand  pounds,  to  be  derived  from  the  land  sale,  many 
sums  w^ere  added  from  individual  donation.  The  letters  of  Berke- 
ley to  his  friends,  at  this  period,  are  filled  with  the  discussion  of 
his  scheme ;  it  absorbed  his  time,  taxed  his  ingenuity,  filled  his 
heart,  and  drew  forth  the  warm  sympathy  and  earnest  coopera- 
tion of  his  many  admirers,  though  regret  at  the  prospect  of  los- 
ing his  society  constantly  finds  expression.  Swift,  in  a  note  to 
the  lord  lieutenant  of  Ireland,  says :  "  I  do  humbly  entreat  your 
excellency  either  to  use  such  persuasions  as  will  keep  one  of  the 
first  men  of  the  kingdom  for  learning  and  genius  at  home,  or 
assist  him  by  your  credit  to  compass  his  romantic  design."  "I 
have  obtained  reports,"  says  one  of  his  own  letters,  "from  the 
Bishop  of  London,  the  board  of  trade  and  plantations,  and  the 
H t torn cy  and  solicitor-general;"   " yesterday  the  charter  passed 


GEOllGE     BERKELEY.  255 

the  privy  seal ; ''  "  the  lord  chancellor  is  not  a  busier  man  than 
myself;  "  and  else^Yhere,  ''  I  have  had  more  opposition  from  the 
governors  and  traders  to  America  than  from  any  one  else,  but, 
God  be  praised,  there  is  an  end  of  all  their  narrow  and  mercantile 
views  and  endeavors,  as  well  as  of  the  jealousies  and  suspicions 
of  others,  some  of  whom  were  very  great  men,  who  apprehended 
this  college  may  produce  an  independency  in  America,  or  at  least 
lessen  her  dependency  on  England." 

Freneau's  ballad  of  the  '■  Indian  Boy,"  who  ran  back  to  the 
woods  from  the  halls  of  learning,  was  written  subsequently,  or  it 
might  have  discouraged  Berkeley  in  his  idea  of  the  capacity  of 
the  American  savages  for  education  ;  but  more  positive  obstacles 
thwarted  his  generous  aims.  The  king  died  before  affixing  his 
seal  to  the  charter,  which  delayed  the  whole  proceedings.  Wal- 
pole,  efficient  as  he  was  as  a  financier  and  a  servant  of  the  house 
of  Brunswick,  was  a  thorough  utilitarian,  and  too  practical  and 
worldly-wise  to  share  in  the  disinterested  enthusiasm  of  Berkeley. 
In  his  answer  to  Bishop  Gibson,  whose  diocese  included  the  West 
Indies,  when  he  applied  for  the  funds  so  long  withheld,  he  says : 
•'  If  you  put  the  question  to  me  as  a  minister,  I  must  assure  you 
that  the  money  shall  most  undoubtedly  be  paid  as  soon  as  suits 
with  public  convenience  ;  but  if  you  ask  me  as  a  friend  whether 
Dean  Berkeley  should  continue  in  America,  expecting  the  pay- 
ment of  twenty  thousand  pounds,  I  advise  him  by  all  means  to 
return  to  Europe."  To  the  project,  thus  rendered  unattainable, 
Berkeley  had  devoted  seven  years  of  his  life,  and  the  greater 
part  of  liis  fortune.  The  amount  realized  by  the  sale  of  confis- 
cated lands  was  about  ninety  thousand  pounds,  of  which  eighty 
thousand  were  devoted  to  the  marriage  portion  of  the  Princess 
Royal,  about  to  espouse  the  Prince  of  Orange  ;  and  the  remain- 
der, through  the  influence  of  Oglethorpe,  was  secured  to  pay  for 
the  transportation  of  emigrants  to  his  Georgia  colony.  Berke- 
ley's scheme  was  more  deliberate  and  well-considered  than  is 
commonly  believed.  Horace  Walpole  calls  it  "uncertain  and 
amusing  ;  "  but  a  writer  of  deeper  sympathies  declares  it  "  too 
grand  and  pure  for  the  powers  tliat  were."  His  nature  craved 
the  united  opportunities  of  usefulness  and  of  self-culture ;  he  felt 
the  obligation  to  devote  himself  to  benevolent  enterprise,  and  at 


256  THE     CHRISTIAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

the  same  time  earnestly  desired  both  the  leisure  and  the  retire- 
ment needful  for  the  pursuit  of  abstract  studies.  The  project  he 
contemplated  promised  to  realize  all  these  objects.  He  possessed 
a  heart  to  feel  the  infinite  wants,  intellectual  and  religious,  of  the 
new  continent,  and  had  the  imagination  to  conceive  the  grand 
destinies  awaiting  its  growth.  Those  who  fancj  that  his  views 
were  limited  to  the  plan  of  a  doubtful  missionary  experiment  do 
great  injustice  to  the  broad  and  elevated  hopes,  he  cherished  ;  he 
knew  that  a  recognized  seat  of  learning  open  to  the  poor  and 
uncivilized,  and  the  varied  moral  exigencies  of  a  new  country, 
would  insure  ample  scope  for  the  exercise  of  all  his  erudition  and 
his  talents  ;  he  felt  that  his  mind  would  be  a  kingdom  wherever 
his  lot  was  cast ;  and  he  was  inspired  by  a  noble  interest  in  the 
progress  of  America,  and  a  faith  in  the  new  field  there  open  for 
the  advancement  of  truth,  as  is  evident  from  the  celebrated  verses 
in  which  these  feelings  found  expression  : 

*'The  Muse,  disgusted  at  an  age  and  clime 
Barren  of  every  glorious  theme, 
In  distant  lands  now  waits  a  better  time. 
Producing  subjects  worthy  fame. 

In  happy  climes,  when  from  the  genial  sun 

And  virgin  earth  such  scenes  ensue. 
The  force  of  art  by  nature  seems  outdone. 

And  fancied  beauties  by  the  true  ; 

In  happy  climes,  the  seat  of  innocence, 

Where  nature  guides  and  virtue  rules. 
Where  men  shall  not  impose  for  truth  and  sense 

The  pedantry  of  schools  ; 

Then  shall  we  see  again  the  golden  age. 

The  rise  of  empire  and  of  arts, 
The  good  and  gi*eat  inspiring  epic  rage, 

The  wisest  heads  and  noblest  hearts  ; 

Not  such  as  Europe  breeds  in  her  decay  ; 

Such  as  she  bred  when  fresh  and  young, 
When  heavenly  flame  did  animate  her  clay, 

By  future  poets  shall  be  sung. 

Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way  ; 

The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
A  fifth  shall  end  the  drama  with  the  day  ; 

Time's  noblest  ofifepring  is  the  last." 


GEORGE    BERKELEY.  257 

In  August,  1728,  Berkeley  married  a  daughter  of  the  Honor- 
able John  Foster,  speaker  of  the  Irish  House  of  Commons,  and, 
soon  after,  embarked  for  America.  His  companions  were,  his 
wife  and  her  friend.  Miss  Hancock ;  two  gentlemen  of  fortune, 
James  and  Dalton  ;  and  Smibert  the  painter.  In  a  picture  bj 
the  latter,  now  in  the  Trumbull  gallery  at  New  Haven,  are  pre- 
served the  portraits  of  this  group,  with  that  of  the  dean's  inf^mt 
son,  Henry,  in  his  mother's  arms.  It  was  painted  for  a  gentle- 
man of  Boston,  of  whom  it  was  purchased,  in  1808,  by  Isaac 
Lothrop,  Esq.,  and  presented  to  Yale  College.  This  visit  of 
Smibert  associates  Berkeley's  name  with  the  dawn  of  art  in 
America.  They  had  travelled  together  in  Italy,  and  the  dean 
induced  him  to  join  the  expedition  partly  from  friendship,  and 
also  to  enlist  his  services  as  instructor  in  drawing  and  architec- 
ture, in  the  proposed  college.  Smibert  was  born  in  Edinburgh, 
about  the  year  1684,  and  served  an  apprenticeship  there  to  a 
house-painter.  He  went  to  London,  and,  from  painting  coaches, 
rose  to  copying  old  pictures  for  the  dealers.  He  then  gave  three 
years  to  the  study  of  his  art  in  Italy. 

''  Smibert,"  says  Horace  Walpole,  "  was  a  silent  and  modest 
man,  who  abhorred  i\\Q  finesse  of  some  of  his  profession,  and  was^ 
enchanted  with  a  plan  that  he  thought  promised  tranquillity  and  an 
honest  subsistence  in  a  healthy  and  elysian  climate,  and  in  spite 
of  remonstrances  engaged  with  the  dean,  whose  zeal  had  ranged 
the  favor  of  the  court  on  his  side.  The  king's  death  dispelled 
the  vision.  One  may  conceive  how  a  man  so  devoted  to  his  art 
must  have  been  animated  when  the  dean's  enthusiasm  and  elo- 
quence painted  to  his  imagination  a  new  theatre  of  prospects, 
rich,  warm,  and  glowing  with  scenery  which  no  pencil  had  yet 
made  common."  * 

Smibert  was  the  first  educated  artist  who  visited  our  shores, 
and  the  picture  referred  to,  the  first  of  more  than  a  single  figure 
executed  in  the  country.  To  his  pencil  New  England  is 
indebted  for  portraits  of  many  of  her  early  statesmen  and  clergy. 
Among  others,  he  pamted  for  a  Scotch  gentleman  the  only 
authentic  likeness  of  Jonathan  Edwards.  He  married  a  lady  of 
fortune  in  Boston,  and  left  her  a  widow  with  two  children,  in 

♦  Anecdotes  of  Painting,  vol.  iii. 

22* 


258         THE    CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

1751.  A  high  eulogium  on  his  abilities  and  character  appeared 
in  the  London  Courant.  From  two  letters  addressed  to  him  by 
Berkeley,  when  residing  at  Cloyne,  published  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  it  would  appear  that  his  friendship  for  the  artist  con- 
tinued after  their  separation,  as  the  bishop  urges  the  painter  to 
recross  the  sea  and  establish  himself  in  his  neighborhood. 

A  considerable  sum  of  money,  and  a  large  and  choice  collec- 
tion of  baoks,  designed  as  a  foundation  for  the  library  of  St. 
Paul's  College,  were  the  most  important  items  of  the  dean's  out- 
fit. In  these  days  of  rapid  transit  across  the  Atlantic,  it  is  not 
easy  to  realize  the  discomforts  and  perils  of  such  a  voyage. 
Brave  and  philanthropic,  indeed,  must  have  been  the  heart  of  an 
English  church  dignitary,  to  whom  the  road  of  preferment  was 
open,  who  was  a  favorite  companion  of  the  genial  Steele,  the 
classic  Addison,  and  the  brilliant  Pope,  who  basked  in  the  smile 
of  royalty,  was  beloved  of  the  church,  revered  by  the  poor,  the  idol 
of  society,  and  the  peer  of  scholars ;  yet  could  shake  ofif  the 
allurements  of  such  a  position  to  endure  a  tedious  voyage,  a  long 
exile,  and  the  deprivations  attendant  on  a  crude  state  of  society 
and  a  new  civilization,  in  order  to  achieve  an  object  which,  how- 
ever excellent  and  generous  in  itself,  was  of  doubtful  issue,  and 
beset  with  obstacles.  Confiding  in  the  pledges  of  those  in 
authority,  that  the  parliamentary  grant  would  be  paid  when  the 
lands  had  been  selected,  and  full  of  the  most  sanguine  anticipa- 
tions, the  noble  pioneer  of  religion  and  letters  approached  the 
shores  of  the  New  World. 

It  seems  doubtful  to  some  of  his  biographers  whether  Berkeley 
designed  to  make  a  preliminary  visit  to  Rhode  Island,  in  order 
to  purchase  lands  there,  the  income  of  which  would  sustain  his 
Bermuda  institution.  The  vicinity  of  that  part  of  the  New  Eng- 
land coast  to  the  West  Indies  may  have  induced  such  a  course  ; 
but  it  is  declared  by  more  than  one  that  his  arrival  at  Newport 
was  quite  accidental.  This  conjecture,  however,  is  erroneous,  as 
in  one  of  his  letters,  dated  September  5,  1728,  he  says  :  "  To- 
morrow, with  God's  blessing,  I  set  sail  for  Rhode  Island."  The 
captain  of  the  ship  which  conveyed  him  from  England,  it  is  said, 
was  unable  to  discover  the  island  of  Bermuda,  and  at  length 
abandoned  the  attempt,  and  steered  in  a  northerly  direction. 


GEORGE    BERKELEY.  25S 

They  made  land  which  they  could  not  identify,  and  supposed  it 
inhabited  only  by  Indians ;  it  proved,  however,  to  be  Block 
Island,  and  two  fishermen  came  off  and  informed  them  of  the 
vicinity  of  Newport  harbor.  Under  the  pilotage  of  these  men,  the 
vessel,  in  consequence  of  an  unfavorable  wind,  entered  what  is 
called  the  West  passage,  and  anchored.  The  fishermen  were  sent 
ashore  with  a  letter  from  the  dean  to  Rev.  James  Honyman. 
They  landed  at  Canonicut  Island,  and  sought  the  dwellings  of  two 
parishioners  of  that  gentleman,  who  immediately  conveyed  the 
letter  to  their  pastor.  For  nearly  half  a  century  this  faithful 
clergyman  had  labored  in  that  region.  He  first  established 
himself  at  Newport,  in  1704.  Besides  the  care  of  his  own 
church,  he  made  frequent  visits  to  the  neighboring  towns  on  the 
main  land.  In  a  letter  to  the  secretary  of  the  Episcopal  mission 
in  America,  in  1709,  he  says,  "  You  can  neither  believe,  nor 
I  express,  what  excellent  services  for  the  cause  of  religion  a 
bishop  would  do  in  these  parts ;  these  infant  settlements  would 
become  beautiful  nurseries,  which  now  seem  to  languish  for  want 
of  a  father  to  oversee  and  bless  them  ;  "  and  in  a  memorial  to 
Governor  Nicholson  on  the  religious  condition  of  Rhode  Island, 
in  1714,  he  observes  :  "  The  people  are  divided  among  Quakers, 
Anabaptists,  Independents,  Gortonians,  and  Infidels,  with  a  rem- 
nant of  true  Churchmen."  *  It  is  characteristic  of  the  times 
and  region,  that  with  a  broad  circuit  and  isolated  churches  as 
the  sphere  of  his  labors,  the  vicinity  of  Indians,  and  the  variety 
of  sects,  he  was  employed  for  two  months,  in  1723,  in  daily 
attending  a  large  number  of  pirates  who  had  been  captured, 
and  were  subsequently  executed;  one  of  the  murderous  bands 
which  then  infested  the  coast,  whose  extraordinary  career 
has  been  illustrated  by  Cooper,  in  one  of  his  popular  nautical 
romances. 

When  Berkeley's  missive  reached  this  worthy  pastor,  he  was  in 
his  pulpit,  it  being  a  holiday.  He  immediately  read  the  letter  to 
his  congregation,  and  dismissed  them.  Nearly  all  accompanied 
him  to  the  ferry  wharf,  which  they  reached  but  a  few  moments 

*  Hawkins'  Historical  Notices  of  the  Missions  of  the  Church  of  England  in  the 
North  American  Colonies,  p.  173. 


260  THE     CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

before  the  arrival  of  the  dean  and  his  fellow-vojagers.  A  letter 
from  Newport,  dated  January  24th,  1729,  that  appeared  in  the 
New  England  Journal,  published  at  Boston,  thus  notices  the 
event:  "Yesterday  arrived  here  Dean  Berkeley,  of  London- 
derry, in  a  pretty  large  ship.  He  is  a  gentleman  of  middle  stat- 
ure, and  of  an  agreeable,  pleasant,  and  erect  aspect.  He  was 
ushered  into  the  town  by  a  great  number  of  gentlemen,  to  whom 
he  behaved  himself  after  a  very  complaisant  manner.  'T  is  said 
he  purposes  to  tarry  here  about  three  months." 

We  can  easily  imagine  the  delightful  surprise  which  Berkeley 
acknowledges  at  first  view  of  that  lovely  bay  and  the  adjacent 
country.  The  water  tinted,  in  the  clear  autumn  air,  like  the 
Mediterranean;  the  fields  adorned  with  symmetrical  haystacks 
and  golden  maize,  and  bounded  by  a  lucid  horizon,  against  which 
rose  picturesque  windmills  and  the  clustered  dwellings  of  the 
town,  and  the  noble  trees  which  then  covered  the  island;  the 
bracing  yet  tempered  atmosphere,  all  greeted  the  senses  of  those 
weary  voyagers,  and  kindled  the  grateful  admiration  of  their 
romantic  leader.  He  soon  resolved  upon  a  longer  sojourn,  and 
purchased  a  farm  of  a  hundred  acres  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
whereon  stood  the  dwelling  of  Honyman,  and  which  still  bears 
his  name.* 

There  he  erected  a  modest  homestead,  with  philosophic  taste 
dhoosing  the  valley,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  fine  view  from  the  sum- 
mit occasionally,  rather  than  lose  its  charm  by  familiarity.  At 
a  sufficient  distance  from  the  town  to  insure  immunity  from  idle 
visitors ;  wnthin  a  few  minutes'  walk  of  the  sea,  and  girdled  by  a 
fertile  vale,  the  student,  dreamer,  and  missionary,  pitched  his  hum- 
ble tent  where  nature  offered  her  boundless  refreshment,  and  seclu- 
sion her  contemplative  peace.  His  first  vivid  impressions  of  the 
situation,  and  pf  the  difficulties  and  consolations  of  his  position, 
are  described  in  the  few  letters,  dated  at  Newport,  which  his 
biographer  cites.  At  this  distance  of  time,  and  in  view  of  the 
subsequent  changes  of  that  region,  it  is  both  curious  and  interest- 
ing to  revert  to  these  incidental  data  of  Berkeley's  visit. 

*  The  conveyance  from  Joseph  Whipple  and  wife  to  Berkeley,  of  the  land  in 
Newport,  is  dated  Feb.  18, 1729. 


GEORGE    BERKELEY.  261 

"  Newport,  in  Rhode  Island,  April  24,  1729. 

"  I  can  by  this  time  say  something  to  you,  from  my  own  expe- 
rience, of  this  place  and  its  people.  The  inhabitants  are  of  a 
mixed  kind,  consisting  of  many  sects  and  subdivisions  of  sects. 
Here  are  four  sorts  of  Anabaptists,  besides  Presbyterians,  Quakers, 
Independents,  and  many  of  no  profession  at  all.  Notwithstanding 
80  many  differences,  here  are  fewer  quarrels  about  religion  than 
elsewhere,  the  people  living  peacefully  with  their  neighbors  of 
"whatever  persuasion.  They  all  agree  in  one  point,  —  that  the 
Church  of  England  is  the  second  best.  The  climate  is  like  that 
of  Italy,  and  not  at  all  colder  in  the  winter  than  I  have  known 
everywhere  north  of  Rome.  The  spring  is  late,  but,  to  make 
amends,  tliey  assure  me  the  autumns  are  the  finest  and  the  long- 
est in  the  world  ;  and  the  summers  are  much  pleasanter  than 
those  of  Italy  by  all  accounts,  forasmuch  as  the  grass  continues 
green,  which  it  does  not  there.  This  island  is  pleasantly  laid  out 
in  hills  and  vales  and  rising  ground,  hath  plenty  of  excellent 
springs  and  fine  rivulets,  and  many  delightful  rocks,  and  promon- 
tories, and  adjacent  lands.  The  provisions  are  very  good ;  so  are 
the  fruits,  which  are  quite  neglected,  though  vines  sprout  of  them- 
selves of  an  extraordinary  size,  and  seem  as  natural  to  this  soil  as 
any  I  ever  saw.  The  town  of  Newport  contains  about  six  thou- 
sand souls,  and  is  the  most  thriving  place  in  all  America  for  its 
bigness.  I  was  never  more  agreeably  surprised  than  at  the  first 
sight  of  the  town  and  its  harbor." 

''  June  12,  1729.  — I  find  it  hath  been  reported  in  Ireland  that 
we  intend  settling  here ;  I  must  desire  you  to  discountenance  any 
such  report.  The  truth  is,  if  the  king's  bounty  were  paid  in,  and 
the  charter  could  be  removed  hither,  I  should  like  it  better  than 
Bermuda.  But  if  this  were  questioned  before  the  payment  of 
said  money,  it  might  perhaps  hinder  it  and  defeat  all  our  designs. 
I  snatch  this  moment  to  write,  and  have  time  only  to  add  that  I 
have  got  a  son,  who,  I  thank  God,  is  likely  to  live." 

"May  7.  —  This  week  I  received  a  package  from  you  via 
Philadelphia,  the  postage  of  which  amounted  to  above  four  pounds 
sterling  of  this  country  money.  I  am  worried  to  death  by  cred- 
itors, and  am  at  an  end  of  patience,  and  almost  out  of  my  wits. 


262  THE     CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

Our  little  son  is  a  great  joy  to  us  :  we  are  such  fools  as  to  think 
him  the  most  perfect  thing  of  the  kind  we  ever  saw." 

To  the  poet,  scenery  of  picturesque  beauty  and  grandeur  is 
desirable,  but  to  the  philosopher  general  effects  are  more  con- 
genial. High  mountains,  forests,  and  waterfalls,  appeal  more 
emphatically  to  the  former,  and  luxuries  of  climate  and  atmos- 
phere to  the  latter.  Accordingly  the  soft  marine  air  and  the 
beautiful  skies  of  summer  and  autumn,  in  the  region  of  Berke- 
ley's American  home,  with  the  vicinity  of  the  sea-coast,  became 
to  him  a  perpetual  delight.  He  alludes,  with  grateful  sensibil- 
ity, to  the  "  pleasant  fields,"  and  "  walks  on  the  beach,"  to  "the 
expanse  of  ocean  studded  with  fishing-boats  and  lighters,"  and 
the  "plane-trees,"  that  daily  cheered  his  sight,  as  awakening 
"  that  sort  of  joyful  instinct  which  a  rural  scene  and  fine  weather 
inspire."  He  calls  Newport  "  the  Montpelier  of  America,"  and 
appears  to  have  communed  with  nature  and  inhaled  the  salubri- 
ous breeze,  while  pursuing  his  meditations,  with  all  the  zest  of  a 
healthy  organization  and  a  susceptible  and  observant  mind.  A 
few  ravines,  finely  wooded  and  with  fresh  streams  purling  over 
rocky  beds,  vary  the  alternate  uplands ;  from  elevated  points  a 
charming  distribution  of  water  enlivens  the  prospect;  and  the 
shore  is  indented  with  high  clifis  or  rounded  into  graceful  curves. 
The  sunsets  are  remarkable  for  a  display  of  gorgeous  and  radiant 
clouds ;  the  wide  sweep  of  pasture  is  only  broken  by  low  ranges 
of  stone  wall,  clumps  of  sycamores,  orchards,  hay-stacks,  and 
mill-towers ;  and  over  luxuriant  clover-beds,  tasselled  maize,  or 
fallow  acres,  plays,  for  two  thirds  of  the  year,  a  south-western 
breeze,  chastened  and  moistened  by  the  Gulf  Stream. 

Intercourse  with  Boston  was  then  the  chief  means  on  the  island 
of  acquiring  political  and  domestic  news.  A  brisk  trade  was 
carried  on  between  the  town  and  the  West  Indies,  France,  Eng- 
land, and  the  Low  Countries,  curious  memorials  of  which  are  still 
visible,  in  some  of  the  old  mansions,  in  the  shape  of  china  and 
glass  ware,  of  obsolete  patterns,  and  faded  specimens  of  rich  bro- 
cade. A  sturdy  breed  of  Narraganset  ponies  carried  fair  eques- 
trians from  one  to  another  of  the  many  hospitable  dwellings  scat- 
tered over  the  fields,  on  wliicli  browsed  sheep  and  cackled  geese, 


GEORGE    BERKELEY.  263 

still  famous  in  epicurean  reminiscence ;  "while  tropical  fruits  were 
constantly  imported,  and  an  abundance  and  variety  of  fish  and 
fowl  rewarded  the  most  careless  sportsman.  Thus  blessed  by 
nature,  the  accidental  home  of  the  philosophic  dean  soon  won  his 
affection.  Intelligent  members  of  all  denominations  united  in 
admiration  of  his  society  and  attendance  upon  his  preaching. 
With  one  neighbor  he  dined  every  Sunday,  to  the  child  of  an- 
other he  became  god-father,  and  with  a  third  took  counsel  for  the 
establishment  of  the  literary  club,  which  founded  the  Redwood 
Library.  It  was  usual  then  to  see  the  broad  brim  of  the  Qua- 
kers in  the  aisles  of  Trinity  Church ;  and,  as  an  instance  of  his 
emphatic  yet  tolerant  style,  it  is  related  that  he  once  observed  in 
a  sermon,  "Give  the  devil  his  due:  John  Calvin  was  a  great 
man."  *  We  find  him,  at  one  time,  writing  a  letter  of  encour- 
agement to  a  Huguenot  preacher  of  Providence,  and,  at  another, 
visiting  Narraganset  with  Smibert  to  examine  the  aboriginal 
inhabitants.  His  own  opinion  of  the  race  was  given  in  the  dis- 
coui-se  on  ''  The  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts," 
delivered  in  London  on  his  return.  To  the  ethnologist  it  may  be 
interesting,  in  reference  to  this  subject,  to  revert  to  the  anecdote 
of  the  portrait-painter  cited  by  Dr.  Barton.  He  had  been  em- 
ployed by  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  to  paint  two  or  three  Si- 
berian Tartars  presented  to  that  prince  by  the  Czar  of  Russia ; 
and,  on  first  landing  in  Narraganset  with  Berkeley,  he  instantly 
recognized  the  Indians  there  as  the  same  race  as  the  Siberian 
Tartars ;  an  opinion  confirmed  by  Wolff,  the  celebrated  Eastern 
traveller. 

During  his  residence  at  Newport,  Berkeley  became  acquainted 
with  the  Rev.  Jarcd  Elliot,  one  of  the  trustees  of  Yale  College, 
and  with  the  Rev.  Samuel  Johnson,  an  Episcopal  minister  of 
Stratford,  Connecticut,  who  informed  him  of  the  condition,  pros- 
pects, and  wants,  of  that  institution.  He  afterwards  opened  a  cor- 
respondence on  the  subject  with  Rector  Williams,  and  was  thus 
led,  after  the  failure  of  his  own  college  scheme,  to  make  his  gen- 
erous donations  to  a  seminary  already  established.  He  had  pre- 
viously presented  the  college  with  a  copy  of  his  writings.     la 

♦  Updike*s  History  of  the  Narraganset  Church. 


264  THE     CHRISTIAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

1782,  he  sent  from  England  a  deed  of  bis  farm  in  Rho(1e  Island, 
and,  the  conditions  and  descriptions  not  being  satisfactory,  be  sent 
the  ensuing  year  another  deed,  by  which  it  was  provided  that  the 
rents  of  his  lands  should  be  devoted  to  the  education  of  three 
young  men,  the  best  classical  scholars;  tbe  candidates  to  be 
examined  annually,  on  the  sixth  of  May ;  in  case  of  disagree- 
ment among  the  examiners,  tbe  competitors  to  decide  by  lot ;  and 
all  surplus  funds  to  be  used  for  the  purchase  of  classical  books. 
Berkeley  also  gave  to  the  library  a  thousand  volumes,  which  cost 
over  four  hundred  pounds, — the  most  valuable  collection  of  books 
then  brought  together  in  America.  They  were  chiefly  his  own 
purchase,  but  in  part  contributed  by  his  friends.  One  of  the 
graduates  of  Yale,  educated  under  the  Berkeley  scholarship, 
was  Dr.  Buckminster,  of  Portsmouth,  N.  H.  Unfortunately  the 
income  of  the  property  at  Newport  is  rendered  much  less  than  it 
might  be  by  the  terms  of  a  long  lease.  This  liberality  of  the 
Bishop  of  Cloyne  was  enhanced  by  the  absence  of  sectarian  preju- 
dice in  his  choice  for  the  stewardship  of  his  bounty  of  a  collegiate 
institution  where  different  tenets  are  inculcated  from  those  he 
professed.  That  he  was  personally  desirous  of  increasing  his  own 
denomination  in  America,  is  suflBciently  evinced  by  the  letter  in 
which  he  directs  the  Secretary  of  the  Episcopal  Mission  there 
to  appropriate  a  balance  originally  contributed  to  the  Bermuda 
scheme.  This  sum  had  remained  at  his  banker's  for  many  years 
unclaimed,  and  he  suggests  that  part  of  it  should  be  devoted  to  a 
gift  of  books  for  Harvard  University,  "as  a  proper  means  to 
inform  their  judgment,  and  dispose  them  to  think  better  of  our 
church."  His  interest  in  classical  education  on  this  side  of  the 
water  is  also  manifested  in  a  letter  advocating  the  preeminence  of 
those  studies  in  Columbia  College.* 

It  is  a  remarkable  coincidence  that  Berkeley  should  have  taken 
up  his  abode  in  Rhode  Island,  and  thus  completed  the  repiesenta- 
tive  character  of  the  most  tolerant  religious  community  in  New 

*  "  I  am  glad  to  find  a  spirit  towards  learning  prevails  in  these  parts,  particu- 
larly in  New  York,  where,  you  say,  a  college  is  projected,  which  has  my  best 
wishes.  Let  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics  be  well  taught ;  be  this  the  first  care  as 
to  learning."  —  Berkeley's  Letter  to  Johnson,  Moore's  Sketch  of  Columbia 
College.     JVew  York,  1846. 


GEORGE     BERKELEY.  265 

England,  by  the  presence  of  an  eminent  Episcopal  dignitary.  A 
principal  reason  of  the  variety,  the  freedom,  and  the  peace  of 
religious  opinion  there,  to  which  he  alludes,  is  the  fact  that, 
through  the  liberal  wisdom  and  foresight  of  Roger  Williams, 
that  state  has  become  an  asylum  for  the  persecuted  of  all  denom- 
inations from  the  neighboring  provinces ;  but  another  cause  may 
be  found  in  the  prevalence  of  the  Quakers,  whose  amiable  tenets 
and  gentle  spirit  subdued  the  rancor  and  bigotry  of  fimaticism. 
Several  hundred  Jews,  still  commemorated  by  their  cemetery 
and  synagogue,  allured  by  the  prosperous  trade  and  the  tolerant 
genius  of  the  place,  added  still  another  feature  to  the  varied  pop- 
ulation. The  lenity  of  Penn  towards  the  aborigines,  and  the 
fame  of  Fox,  had  given  dignity  to  the  denomination  of  Friends, 
and  their  domestic  culture  was  refined  as  well  as  morally  supe- 
rior. Enterprise  in  the  men  who,  in  a  neighboring  state,  origin- 
ated the  whale-fishery,  and  beauty  among  the  women  of  that  sect, 
are  traditional  in  Rhode  Island.  We  were  reminded  of  Berke- 
ley's observations,  in  regard  to  the  natural  productions  of  the 
country,  during  a  recent  visit  to  the  old  farm-house  where  he 
resided.  An  enormous  wild  grape-vine  had  completely  veiled 
what  formed  the  original  entrance  to  the  humble  dwelling,  and 
several  ancient  apple-trees  in  the  orchard,  with  boughs  mossy 
with  time,  and  gnarled  by  the  ocean  gales,  showed,  in  their  sparse 
fruit  and  matted  twigs,  the  utter  absence  of  the  pruning-knife. 
The  dwelling  itself  is  built,  after  the  manner  common  to  farm- 
houses a  century  ago,  entirely  of  wood,  with  low  ceilings,  broad 
fire-place,  and  red  cornice.  The  only  traces  of  the  old  country 
were  a  few  remaining  tiles,  with  obsolete  designs,  around  the 
chimney-piece.  But  the  deep  and  crystal  azure  of  the  sea 
gleamed  beyond  corn-field  and  sloping  pasture  ;  sheep  grazed  in 
the  meadows,  hoary  rocks  bounded  the  prospect,  and  the  mellow 
crimson  of  sunset  lay  warm  on  grass  slope  and  paddock,  as  when 
the  kindly  philosopher  mused  by  the  shore  with  Plato  in  hand, 
or  noted  a  metaphysical  dialogue  in  the  quiet  and  ungarnished 
room  which  overlooks  the  rude  garden.  Though,  as  he  declares, 
"  for  every  private  reason,"  he  preferred  "  Derry  to  New  Eng- 
land," pleasant  was  the  abode,  and  grateful  is  the  memory  of 
Berkeley,  in  this  rural  seclusion.  A  succession  of  green  breast- 
23 


266  THE    CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

works  alonor  the  brow  of  the  hill  beneath  which  his  domicile 

o 

nestles,  bj  reminding  the  visitor  of  the  retreat  of  the  American 
forces  under  General  Sullivan,  brings  vividly  to  his  mind  the 
Revolution  and  its  incalculable  influence  upon  the  destinies  of  a 
land  which  so  early  won  the  intelligent  sympathy  of  Berkeley ; 
while  the  name  of  Whitehall,  which  he  gave  to  this  peaceful 
domain,  commemorates  that  other  revolution  in  his  own  country, 
wherein  the  loyalty  of  his  grandfather  drove  his  family  into 
exile.  But  historical  soon  yield  to  personal  recollections,  when 
we  consider  the  memorials  of  his  sojourn.  We  associate  this 
landscape  with  his  studies  and  his  benevolence ;  and,  when  the 
scene  was  no  longer  blessed  with  his  presence,  his  gifts  remained 
to  consecrate  his  memory.  In  old  Trinity,  the  organ  he  bestowed 
peals  over  the  grave  of  his  first-born  in  the  adjoining  burial- 
ground.  A  town  in  Massachusetts  bears  his  name.  Not  long 
since  a  presentation  copy  of  his  "Minute  Philosopher"  was  kept 
on  the  table  of  an  old  lady  of  Newport,  with  reverential  care. 
In  one  family  his  gift  of  a  richly  wrought  silver  coffee-pot,  and 
in  another  that  of  a  diamond  ring,  are  cherished  heirlooms.  His 
rare  and  costly  books  were  distributed,  at  his  departure,  among 
the  resident  clergy.  His  scholarship  at  New  Haven  annually 
furnishes  recruits  to  our  church,  bar,  or  medical  faculty.  In  an 
adjacent  parish  the  sacramental  cup  was  his  donative.  His  leg- 
acy of  ingenious  thoughts  and  benign  sentiment  is  associated 
with  hanging  rocks  that  are  the  seaward  boundary  of  his  farm ; 
his  Christian  ministry  with  the  ancient  church,  and  his  verse  with 
the  progress  of  America. 


THE  SCEPTICAL  GENIUS 

GIACOMO    LEOPARDI. 


Provincial  life  in  Italy  can  scarcely  be  realized  by  an  Amer- 
ican except  through  observation.  However  remote  from  cities, 
or  sequestered  in  location,  a  town  may  be  in  this  country,  if  not 
connected  with  the  great  world  by  railroad  and  telegraph,  the 
newspaper,  the  political  representative,  and  an  identity  of  feeling 
and  action  in  some  remote  enterprise  or  interest,  keep  alive 
mutual  sympathy  and  intelligence.  But  a  moral  and  social  as 
well  as  physical  isolation  belongs  to  the  minor  towns  of  the  Ital- 
ian peninsula.  The  quaint  old  stone  houses  enclose  beings  whose 
existence  is  essentially  monastic,  whose  knowledge  is  far  behind 
the  times,  and  whose  feelings  are  rigidly  confined  within  the  lim- 
its of  family  and  neighborhood.  A  more  complete  picture  of  still 
life  in  the  nineteenth  century  it  is  difl&cult  to  imagine,  thatn  many 
of  these  secluded  towns  present.  The  dilapidated  air  of  the  pal- 
aces, the  sudden  gloom  of  the  narrow  streets,  as  one  turns  into 
them  from  the  square,  where  a  group  of  idlers  in  tattered  cloaks 
are  ever  engaged  in  a  game  or  a  gossip,  the  electrical  effect  of  a 
travelling  carriage,  or  a  troop  of  soldiers  invading  the  quiet  scene, 
at  once  inform  even  the  casual  visitor  of  the  distance  he  is  at 
from  the  spirit  of  the  age.  With  the  decayed  air  of  the  private 
houses,  their  worn  brick  floors  and  primitive  furniture,  contrast 
impressively  the  extensive  and  beautiful  view  usually  obtainable 
from  the  highest  windows,  and  the  architectural  magnificence  of 
the  church.     We  are  constantly  reminded  that  modern  ameliora- 


268         THE  SCEPTICAL  GENIUS. 

tion  has  not  yet  invaded  the  region  ;  while  the  petty  objects  to 
which  even  the  better  class  are  devoted,  the  importance  attached 
to  the  most  frivolous  details  of  life,  the  confined  views  and  micro- 
scopic jealousies  or  dilettante  tastes  that  prevail,  assure  us  that 
liberal  curiosity  and  enlarged  sympathy  find  but  little  scope  in 
these  haunts  of  a  nation  devoid  of  civil  life,  and  thrust  upon  the 
past  for  mental  nourishment. 

It  is,  however,  comparatively  easy  to  imagine  the  influence  of 
such  an  environment  upon  a  superior  intelligence.  Recoiling 
from  the  attempt  to  find  satisfaction  in  the  external,  thus  re- 
pressed and  deadened,  the  scholar  would  there  naturally  turn  to 
written  lore  with  a  singular  intensity  of  purpose ;  the  aspirant 
would  find  little  to  tempt  him  from  long  and  sustained  flights 
into  the  ideal  world;  and  the  thinker  would  cling  to  abstract 
truth  with  an  energy  more  fond  and  concentrated  from  the  very 
absence  of  all  motive  and  scope  for  action  and  utterance.  It  is 
thus  that  we  account,  in  part,  for  the  remarkable  individuality 
and  lonely  career  of  Giacomo  Leopardi,  one  of  the  greatest  schol- 
ars and  men  of  genius  modern  Italy  has  produced.  He  has  left 
a  glimpse  of  this  monotonous  and  ungenial  life  in  one  of  his 
poems  —  La  Vita  Solitaria  : 

*'  La  mattutina  pioggia,  allor  che  I'al 

Battendo  esulta  nella  chiusa  stanza 

I  Le  gallinella  ed  al  balcon  s'afi&iccia 

L'abitator  de'campi,  e  il  Sol  che  nasce 
I  suoi  trcmuli  rai  fra  le  cadenti 
Stille  saetta,  alia  capanna  mia 
Dolcemente  picchiando,  mi  risveglia  ; 
E  sorgo,  e  i  lievi  nugoletti,  e  il  prime 
Degli  augelli  susurro,  e  V  aura  fresca, 
E  le  ridenti  piagge  benedico  ; 
Poiche  voi,  cittadine  infauste  mura, 
Vidi  e  conobbi  assai,  la  dove  segue 
Odio  al  dolor  compagno  ;  e  doloroso 
Lo  vivo,  e  tal  morro,  deh  tosto  !    Alcuna 
Benclie  scarsa  pieta  pur  mi  dimostra 
Natura  in  questi  loohi,  un  giorno  oh  qaanto 
Verso  me  piu  cortese." 

Leopardi  was  the  son  of  a  count,  whose  estates  are  situated  at 
Recanti,  in  the  March  of  Ancona ;  and  here  his  early  youth  was 


GIACOMO      LEOPARDI.  269 

passed  chiefly  in  his  father's  library,  which  consisted  wholly  of 
theological  and  classical  books.  After  being  taught  Latin  and 
the  elements  of  philosophy  by  two  priests,  he  seems  to  have  been 
left  to  pursue  his  own  course ;  and,  at  ten  years  old,  he  describes 
himself  as  having  commenced  a  wild  and  desperate  life  of  study, 
the  result  of  which  was  a  mastery  of  ancient  classic  and  church 
literature,  not  only  displayed  in  positive  knowledge,  but  repro- 
duced habitually  in  the  form  of  translations  and  commentaries. 
Greek  is  little  cultivated  in  Italy,  and  in  this,  as  well  as  other 
branches  of  learning,  he  was  quite  isolated.  In  seven  years  his 
health  was  completely  ruined  by  unremitted  mental  application. 
Niebuhr  and  Angelo  Mai  soon  recognized  him  as  a  philologist  of 
remarkable  acumen  and  attainment;  and  laudatory  articles  in 
the  French,  German,  and  Holland  journals,  as  well  as  compli- 
mentary letters  from  distinguished  men,  found  their  way  to  his 
secluded  home.  He  duped  scholars  by  tricks  like  those  of  Mac- 
pherson  and  Chatterton,  in  the  pretended  translation  of  an  Ilellenio 
fragment ;  he  engaged  in  a  literary  correspondence  with  Monti 
and  Gioberti ;  wrote  able  commentaries  on  the  rhetoricians  of  the 
first  and  second  centuries,  annotations  on  the  chronicle  of  Euse- 
bius;  invented  new  narratives  of  martyrdoms  that  passed  for 
genuine ;  translated  parts  of  the  Odyssey,  Epictetus,  and  Soc- 
rates ;  and,  in  fact,  performed  Herculean  labors  of  research  and 
criticism. 

But  the  most  remarkable  feature  of  his  life  is  the  contrast 
between  its  profound  scholarship  and  its  domestic  environment. 
During  this  period  Leopardi  was  treated  like  a  child,  kept  at 
home  by  poverty,  utterly  destitute  of  companionship,  except  what 
he  found  in  an  occasional  disputation  with  the  Jews  of  Ancona ; 
wretched  in  appearance,  consumed  by  melancholy,  struggling 
with  his  father  against  the  project  to  dedicate  him  to  the  church ; 
without  sympathy  from  his  kind,  or  faith  in  his  Creator,  or  joy 
in  his  youth,  or  hope  in  his  destiny.  He  only  found  temporary 
solace  when  consciousness  was  absorbed  in  his  studious  vigils,  in 
the  solitary  library  of  a  forlorn  palace  in  that  secluded  town. 
Such  is  an  epitome  of  Leopardi's  youth.  Of  his  works  thus  pro- 
duced there  are  but  few  and  imperfect  copies,  many  being  still 
unedited ;  and  his  peculiar  genius  would  be  faintly  revealed  to 
23* 


270  THE     SCEPTICAL     GENIUS. 

US,  had  it  not  found  more  direct  and  personal  expression  in  a  few 
sincere  and  highly  finished  original  writings,  which  shadow  forth 
and  embody,  with  singular  eloquence,  the  life  and  the  nature  of 
the  man. 

Leopardi  was  born  at  Recanti,  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  June, 
1798,  and  died  at  Naples,  on  the  fourteenth  of  June,  1837.  The 
restraint  under  which  he  lived,  partly  that  of  circumstances,  and 
partly  of  authority,  both  exerted  upon  a  morbidly  sensitive  and 
lonely  being,  kept  bim  in  his  provincial  birthplace  until  the  age 
of  twenty-four.  After  this  period  he  sought  a  precarious  subsist- 
ence in  Rome,  Florence,  Bologna,  and  Naples.  Of  the  conscious 
aim  he  proposed  to  himself  as  a  scholar,  we  may  judge  by  his  own 
early  declaration :  "  Mediocrity  frightens  me ;  my  wish  is  to  love, 
and  become  great  by  genius  and  study."  In  regard  to  the  first 
desire,  he  seems,  either  from  an  unfortunate  personal  appearance, 
or  from  having  been  in  contact  with  the  insincere  and  the  vain, 
to  have  experienced  a  bitter  disappointment ;  for  the  craving  for 
sympathy,  and  the  praise  of  love,  continually  find  expression  in 
his  writings,  while  he  says  of  women,  '*  L'ambizione,  I'interesso, 
la  perfidia,  I'insensibilita  delle  donne  che  io  definisco  un  animale 
senza  cuore,  sono  cose  che  mi  spaventano."  He  translated,  with 
great  zest,  the  satire  of  Simonides  on  women.  Elsewhere,  how- 
ever, there  is  evinced  a  remarkable  sensibility  to  female  attrac- 
tions, and  indications  appear  of  gratified,  though  interrupted, 
affinities.  Indeed,  we  cannot  but  perceive  that  Leopardi  belongs 
to  that  rare  class  of  men  whose  great  sense  of  beauty  and  "  neces- 
sity of  loving  "  is  united  with  an  equal  passion  for  truth.  It 
was  not,  therefore,  because  his  taste  was  too  refined,  or  his  stand- 
ard too  ideal,  that  his  afiections  were  baffled,  but  on  account  of 
the  extreme  rarity  of  that  sacred  union  of  loveliness  and  loyalty, 
of  grace  and  candor,  of  the  beautiful  and  the  true,  which,  to  the 
thinker  and  the  man  of  heart,  alone  justifies  the  earnestness  of 
love. 

Nature  vindicated  herself,  as  she  ever  will,  even  in  his  cour- 
ageous attempt  to  merge  all  youthful  impulse  in  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  and  twine  around  abstract  truth  the  clinging  sensibili- 
ties that  covet  a  human  object.  He  became,  indeed,  a  master  of 
lore,  he  lived  a  scholar,  he  kept  apart  from  the  multitude,  and 


GIACOMO     LEOPARDI.  271 

enacted  the  stoical  thinker ;  but  the  ungratified  portion  of  his 
soul  bewailed  her  bereavement ;  from  his  harvest-fields  of  learn- 
in  «•  went  up  the  cry  of  famine  ;  a  melancholy  tone  blended  with 
his  most  triumphant  expositions ;  and  an  irony  that  ill  conceals 
moral  need  underlies  his  most  vivacious  utterance. 

In  his  actual  life  Leopardi  confesses  himself  to  have  been 
greatly  influenced  by  prudential  motives.  There  was  a  reserve 
in  his  family  intercourse,  which  doubtless  tended  to  excite  his 
thoughts  and  feelings  to  a  greater  private  scope ;  and  he  accord- 
ingly sought  in  fancy  and  reflection  a  more  bold  expansion.  His 
scepticism  has  been  greatly  lamented  as  the  chief  source  of  his 
hopelessness ;  and  the  Jesuits  even  ventured  to  assert  his  final 
conversion,  so  important  did  they  regard  the  accession  of  such  a 
gifted  name  to  the  roll  of  the  church ;  but  his  friend,  Ranieri,  in 
whose  arms  he  died,  only  tells  us  that  he  "  resigned  his  exalted 
spirit  with  a  smile."  He  presents  another  instance  of  the  futility 
of  attempting  to  graft  religious  belief  externally,  and  by  prescrip- 
tive means,  upon  a  free,  inquiring,  and  enthusiastic  mind.  Chris- 
tianity, as  practically  made  known  to  Leopardi,  failed  to  enlist 
his  sympathies,  from  the  erroneous  form  in  which  it  was  revealed, 
while,  speculatively,  its  authority  seemed  to  have  no  higher  sanc- 
tion than  the  antique  philosophy  and  fables  with  which  he  was 
conversant.  Had  he  learned  to  consider  religion  as  a  sentiment, 
inevitable  and  divine ;  had  he  realized  it  in  the  same  way  as  he 
did  love  —  as  an  experience,  a  feeling,  a  principle  of  the  soul, 
and  not  a  technical  system,  it  would  have  yielded  him  both  com- 
fort and  inspiration. 

Deformed,  with  the  seeds  of  decay  in  his  very  frame,  familiar 
with  the  history,  the  philosophy,  the  languages,  of  the  earth, 
reflective  and  susceptible,  loving  and  lonely,  erudite,  but  without 
a  faith,  young  in  years,  but  venerable  in  mental  life,  he  found 
nothing,  in  the  age  of  transition  in  which  he  lived,  to  fix  and 
harmonize  his  nature.  His  parent  was  incapable  of  comprehend- 
ing the  mind  he  sought  to  control.  Sympathy  with  Greece  and 
Rome,  compassion  for  Italy,  and  despair  of  himself,  were  the 
bitter  fruits  of  knowledge  unillumined  by  supernal  trust.  He 
says  the  inespUcabile  mistero  dell  ^utiiverso  weighed  upon  his 
soul.     He  longed  to  solve  the  problem  of  life,  and  tried  to  believe, 


272  THE     SCEPTICAL     GENIUS. 

with  Bjron,  that  "  everything  is  naught  " —  Udto  e  nulla  ;  and 
wrote,  la  calamitd  e  la  sola  cosa  che  vi  convertga  essendo  vir- 
tuoso. Nostra  vita,  he  asks,  che  val?  solo  a  spregiarla.  He 
thought  too  much  to  be  happy  without  a  centre  of  light  about 
which  his  meditations  could  hopefully  revolve ;  he  felt  too  much 
to  be  tranquil  without  some  reliable  and  endeared  object  to  which 
he  might  confidently  turn  for  solace  and  recognition.  The  facts 
of  his  existence  are  meagre ;  the  circle  of  his  experience  limited, 
and  his  achievements  as  a  scholar  give  us  no  clue  to  his  inward 
life ;  but  the  two  concise  volumes  of  prose  and  verse  are  a  genu- 
ine legacy ;  a  reflection  of  himself  amply  illustrative  to  the  dis- 
criminating reader. 

As  regards  the  diction  of  Leopardi,  it  partakes  of  the  superi- 
ority of  his  mind  and  the  individuality  of  his  character.  Versed, 
as  he  was,  both  in  the  vocabulary  and  the  philosophy  of  ancient 
and  modern  languages,  he  cherished  the  highest  appreciation  of 
his  native  tongue,  of  which  he  said  it  was  sempre  injinita.  He 
wrote  slowly,  and  with  great  care.  In  poetry,  his  fii^st  concep- 
tion was  noted,  at  once,  and  born  in  an  access  of  fervor ;  but  he 
was  employed,  at  intervals,  for  weeks,  in  giving  the  finishing 
touches  to  the  shortest  piece.  It  is,  indeed,  evident  that  Leopardi 
gave  to  his  deliberate  compositions  the  essence,  as  it  were,  of  his 
life.  No  one  would  imagine  his  poems,  except  from  their  lofty 
and  artistic  style,  to  be  the  efi*usions  of  a  great  scholar,  so  sim- 
ple, true,  and  apparently  unavoidable,  are  the  feelings  they 
embody.  It  is  this  union  of  severe  discipline  and  great  erudition 
with  the  glow,  the  directness,  and  the  natural  sentiment,  of  a 
young  poet,  that  constitutes  the  distinction  of  Leopardi.  The 
reflective  power,  and  the  predominance  of  the  thoughtful  element 
in  his  writings,  assimilate  him  rather  with  German  and  English 
than  modern  Italian  literature.  There  is  nothing  desultory  and 
superficial ;  vigor  of  thought,  breadth  and  accuracy  of  knowledge, 
and  the  most  serious  feeling,  characterize  his  works. 

His  taste  was  manly,  and  formed  altogether  on  the  higher 
models.  In  terse  energy  he  often  resembles  Dante ;  in  tender  and 
pensive  sentiment,  Petrarch  ;  in  philosophical  tone  he  manifested 
the  Anglo-Saxon  spirit  of  inquiry  and  psychological  tendency  of 
Bacon  and  Coleridge ;  thus  singularly  combining  the  poetic  and 


GIACOMO     LEOPARDI.  273 

the  erudite,  grave  research  and  fanciful  speculation,  deep  wisdom 
and  exuberant  love.  Of  late  Italian  writers,  perhaps  no  one 
more  truly  revives  the  romantic  associations  of  her  literature ; 
for  Leopardi  "  learned  in  suffering  what  he  taught  in  song,"  as 
exclusively  as  the  "grim  Tuscan"  who  described  the  world  of 
spirits.  His  life  was  shadowed  by  a  melancholy  not  less  pervad- 
ing than  that  of  Tasso  ;  and,  since  Laura's  bard,  no  poet  of  the 
race  has  sung  of  love  with  a  more  earnest  beauty.  He  has  been 
well  said  to  have  passed  a  "  life  of  thought  with  sorrow  beside 
him."  The  efflorescence  of  that  life  is  concentrated  in  his 
verse,  comparatively  limited  in  quantity,  but  proportionally 
intense  in  expression;  and  the  views,  impressions,  fancies,  and 
ideas,  generated  by  his  studies  and  experience,  we  may  gather 
from  his  prose,  equally  concise  in  form  and  individual  in  spirit. 
From  these  authentic  sources  we  will  now  endeavor  to  infer  the 
characteristics  of  his  genius. 

His  faith,  or  rather  his  want  of  faith,  in  life  and  human  des- 
tiny, is  clearly  betrayed  in  his  legend  or  allegory,  called  Storia 
del  Geneve  Umano.  According  to  this  fable,  Jove  created  the 
world  infinitely  less  perfect  than  it  now  exists,  with  obvious 
limits,  undiversified  by  water  and  mountains ;  and  over  it  man 
roved  without  impediment,  childlike,  truthful,  and  living  wholly 
in  the  immediate.  Upon  emerging  from  this  adolescent  condition, 
however,  the  raoe,  wearied  by  the  monotony  and  obvious  bounds 
to  their  power  and  enjoyment,  grew  dissatisfied.  Satiety  took  the 
place  of  contentment,  and  many  grew  desperate,  loathing  the 
existence  in  which  they  originally  rejoiced.  This  insensibility  to 
the  gifts  of  the  gods  was  remedied  by  introducing  the  elements 
of  diversity  and  suggestiveness  into  the  face  of  nature  and  the 
significance  of  life.  The  night  was  made  brilliant  by  stars ; 
mountains  and  valleys  alternated  in  the  landscape ;  the  atmos- 
phere, from  a  fixed  aspect,  became  nebulous  and  crystalline  by 
turns.  Nature,  instead  of  ministering  only  to  vitality  and 
instinctive  enjoyment,  was  so  arranged  and  developed  as  con- 
stantly to  excite  imagination  and  act  upon  sympathy.  Echo  was 
born,  at  this  time,  to  startle  with  mysterious  responses ;  and 
dreams  first  invaded  the  domain  of  sleep,  to  prolong  the  illu- 
sive agencies  thus  instituted  to  render  human  life  more  tolerable. 


274         THE  SCEPTICAL  GENIUS. 

By  these  means  Jove  awakened  to  consciousness  the  soul,  and 
increased  the  charities  and  the  grace  of  existence  through  a  sense 
of  the  grand  and  beautiful.  This  epoch  was  of  longer  duration 
than  that  which  preceded  it ;  and  the  weary  and  hackneyed 
spirits  once  more  realized  enjoyment  in  experiencing  the  same 
vivid  impressions  and  zest  of  being  which  had  marked  the  prim- 
itive era.  But,  at  length,  this  warfare  between  the  real  and 
ideal,  this  successive  interchange  of  charming  delusion  and  stern 
fact  that  made  up  existence,  wore  upon  the  moral  energies,  and  so 
fatigued  the  spirits  of  men,  that  it  gave  rise  to  the  custom,  once 
prevalent  among  our  progenitors,  of  celebrating  as  a  festival  the 
death  of  friends.  Impiety  was  the  final  result  of  this  period  in 
the  history  of  the  race.  Life  became  perverted,  and  human 
nature  shorn  of  its  original  beauty.  This  fallen  condition  the 
gods  punished  by  the  flood  of  Deucalion.  Admonished  to  repair 
the  solitude  of  the  earth,  he  and  Pyrrha,  though  disdainful  of 
life,  obeyed  the  command,  and  threw  stones  behind  them  to  restore 
the  species.  Jove,  admonished  by  the  past  of  the  essential  nature 
of  man,  that  it  is  impossible  for  him,  like  other  animals,  to  live 
happily  in  a  state  of  freedom  from  evil,  always  desiring  the 
impossible,  considered  by  what  new  arts  it  was  practicable  to  keep 
alive  the  unhappy  race.  These  he  decided  were  first  to  mingle 
in  his  life  real  evils,  and  then  to  engage  him  in  a  thousand 
avocations  and  labors,  in  order  to  divert  him  as  much  as  possible 
from  communing  with  his  own  nature,  or,  at  least,  with  the 
desire  of  the  unattained.  He,  therefore,  sent  abroad  many  dis- 
eases and  misfortunes,  wishing,  by  the  vicissitudes  of  mortal  life, 
to  obviate  satiety,  and  increase,  by  the  presence  of  evil,  the 
relish  of  good;  to  soften  the  ferocity  of  man,  to  reduce  his 
power,  and  lead  him  to  succumb  to  necessity,  and  to  temper  the 
ardor  of  his  desires. 

Besides  such  benefits,  he  knew  that,  when  there  is  room  for 
hope,  the  unhappy  are  less  inclined  to  do  violence  to  themselves, 
and  that  the  gloom  of  disaster  thus  illumined  is  endurable. 
Accordingly,  he  created  tempests,  armed  them  with  thunder  and 
lightning,  gave  Neptune  his  trident,  whirled  comets  into  space, 
and  ordained  eclipses.  By  these  and  other  terrible  phases  of  the 
elements,  he  desired  to  excite  a  wholesome  awe,  knowing  that  the 


GIACOMO     LEOPARDI.  275 

presence  of  danger  will  reconcile  to  life,  for  a  time  at  least,  not 
onlj  the  unhappy,  but  those  who  most  abominate  it.  To  exclude 
the  previous  satiety,  he  induced  in  mankind  appetites  for  new 
gratifications,  not  to  be  obtained  without  toil ;  and  whereas,  before 
the  flood,  water,  herbs,  and  fruit,  sufficed  for  nourishment,  now 
food  and  drink  of  great  variety  and  elaborate  preparation  became 
a  necessity.  Until  then,  the  equality  of  temperature  rendered 
clothing  useless ;  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  now  made  it 
indispensable. 

He  ordered  Mercury  to  found  the  first  city,  and  divide  the 
race  into  nations,  tongues,  and  people,  sowing  discord  among 
them.  Thus  laws  were  originated  and  civil  life  instituted.  He 
then  sent  among  men  certain  sentiments,  or  superhuman  phan- 
tasms of  most  excellent  semblance,  such  as  Justice,  Virtue,  Glory, 
and  Patriotism,  to  mould,  quicken,  and  elevate  society.  The 
fruit  of  this  revolution  was  admirable.  Notwithstanding  the 
fatigues,  alarms,  and  griefs,  previously  unknown  to  our  race,  it 
excelled,  in  sweetness  and  convenience,  its  state  before  the 
deluge ;  and  this  effect  was  owing  mainly  to  the  phantasms  or 
ideas  before  alluded  to,  which  inspired  poets  and  artists  to  the 
highest  efforts,  and  to  which  many  cheerfully  sacrificed  their 
lives.  This  greatly  pleased  Jove,  who  justly  thought  that  men 
would  value  life  in  proportion  as  they  were  disposed  to  yield  it  in 
a  noble  cause.  Indeed,  this  order  of  things,  even  when  super- 
seded after  many  centuries,  retained  its  supremacy  so  well  that, 
up  to  a  time  not  very  distant  from  the  present,  the  maxims  founded 
upon  it  were  in  vogue. 

Again,  the  insatiable  desires  of  man  alienated  him  from  the  will 
of  the  gods.  Unsatisfied  with  the  scope  given  to  imaginative 
enjoyment,  he  now  pleaded  for  Truth.  This  unreasonable  exac- 
tion angered  Jupiter,  who,  however,  determined  to  punish  im- 
portunity by  granting  the  demand.  To  the  remonstrances  of 
the  other  deities  he  replied  by  describing  the  consequences  of  the 
gift.  It  will,  he  assured  them,  destroy  many  of  the  attractive 
illusions  of  life,  disenchant  perception,  and  forever  chasten  the 
fervor  of  desire  ;  for  Truth  is  not  to  mortals  what  she  is  to  divin- 
ities. She  makes  clear  the  beatitude  of  the  one,  but  the  misery 
of  the  other,  by  revealing  the  conditions  of  their  fate,  the  preca- 


276  THE     SCEPTICAL     GENIUS. 

rious  nature  of  their  enjoyments,  and  the  deceptive  character  of 
human  pursuits.  The  long-sought  blessings  thus  proved  to  the 
multitude  a  bane  ;  for,  in  this  new  order  of  things,  the  semblance 
of  the  infinite  no  longer  yielded  satisfaction,  but  aggravated  the 
soul,  created  weariness,  longing,  and  aspiration.  Under  the 
dominion  of  Truth,  universality  supervened  among  men,  land- 
marks lost  their  distinctness,  nations  intermingled,  and  the 
motives  to  earnest  love  or  hate  became  few  and  tame.  Life  thus 
gradually  lost  its  original  interest  and  significance  to  human 
consciousness,  and  its  essential  value  was  so  greatly  diminished 
as  to  awaken  the  pity  of  the  gods  at  the  forlorn  destiny  of  the 
race 

Jove  heard  their  intercession  benignly,  and  consented  to  the 
prayer  of  Love  that  she  might  descend  to  the  earth.  The 
gentle  daughter  of  the  celestial  Venus  thus  preserved  the  only 
vestige  of  the  ancient  nobility  of  man.  Often  before  had  men 
imagined  that  she  dwelt  among  them ;  but  it  was  only  her 
counterfeit.  Not  until  humanity  came  under  the  dominion  of 
Truth,  did  Love  actually  vouchsafe  her  genuine  presence,  and 
then  only  for  a  time,  for  she  could  not  be  long  spared  from 
heaven.  So  unworthy  had  mankind  become,  that  few  hearts 
were  found  fit  to  receive  the  angelic  guest,  and  these  she  filled 
with  such  noble  and  sweet  emotions,  such  high  and  consistent 
moral  energy,  as  to  revive  in  them  the  life  of  the  beatific  era. 
This  state,  when  realized,  so  nearly  approached  the  divine,  that 
Jove  permitted  it  to  but  few,  and  at  long  intervals.  By  this 
means,  however,  the  grand  primeval  sentiments  were  kept  in  rela- 
tion with  man,  the  original  sacred  fire  remained  unextinguished, 
and  the  glorious  imaginings  and  tender  charms  of  humanity  yet 
lingered  to  nourish  a  sublime  fiiith  and  infinite  liope.  The 
majority,  however,  continued  insensible  to  this  redeeming  element, 
and  profaned  and  ignorantly  repudiated  it ;  yet  it  ceased  not  to 
hallow,  exalt,  and  refine,  the  weary,  sated,  and  baffled  soul  of  man. 

Such  is  a  meagre  outline  of  the  allegory  which  shadows  forth 
Leopardi's  views  of  life.  It  would  appear  that  he  recognized  no 
sign  of  promise  in  the  firmament  of  existence,  radiant  as  it  was 
to  his  vision  with  the  starry  light  of  knowledge,  but  the  rainbow 
of  Love,  upon  which  angels  seemed  to  ascend  and  descend  —  the 


GIACOMO     LEOPARDI.  277 

one  glowing  link  between  earth  and  the  sky,  the  bridge  spanning 
the  gulf  of  time,  the  arc  made  up  of  the  tears  of  earth  and  the 
light  of  heaven. 

In  a  note  to  this  fable,  he  protests  against  having  had  any 
design  to  run  a  philosophical  tilt  against  either  the  Mosaic  tradi- 
tion or  the  evangelists ;  but  it  is  evident  that  he  did  aim  to  utter 
the  convictions  which  his  own  meditations  and  personal  experi- 
ence had  engendered.  Nor  is  the  view  thus  given  of  the  signifi- 
cance and  far-reaching  associations  of  human  love,  when  conse- 
crated by  sentiment  and  intensified  by  intelligence,  so  peculiar 
as  might  appear  from  his  manner  of  presenting  it.  In  Plato, 
Dante,  and  Petrarch,  in  all  the  higher  orders  of  poets  and  philoso- 
phers, we  find  a  divine  and  enduring  principle  recognized  under 
the  same  guise.  The  language  in  which  Leopardi  expresses  his 
faith  on  the  subject  is  not  less  emphatic  than  graceful :  "Qualora 
viene  in  sulla  terra,  sceglie  i  cuori  piu  teneri  e  piu  gentili  delle 
persone  piu  generose  e  magnanime  ;  e  quivi  siede  per  alcun  breve 
spazio  ;  diffondendovi  si  pellegrina  e  mirabile  soavita,  ed  empien- 
doli  di  affetti  si  nobili,  e  di  tanta  virtu  e  fortezza,  che  eglino 
allora  provano,  cosa  al  tutto  nuova  nel  genera  umano,  pinttosto 
verita  che  rassomiglianza  di  beatitudine." 

The  satire  of  Leopardi  is  pensive  rather  than  bitter ;  it  is 
aimed  at  general,  not  special  error,  and  seems  inspired  far  more 
by  the  sad  conviction  of  a  serious  mind  than  the  ascerbity  of  a 
disappointed  one.  In  the  dialogue  between  Fashion  and  Death, 
the  former  argues  a  near  relationship  and  almost  identity  of  pur- 
pose with  the  latter ;  and  the  folly  and  unwholesome  effects  of 
subservience  to  custom  are  finely  satirized,  in  naively  showing 
how  the  habits  she  induces  tend  to  shorten  life  and  multiply  the 
victims  of  disease.  So  in  the  proposal  of  premiums  by  an  imag- 
inary academy,  the  mechanical  spirit  of  the  age  is  wittily  rebuked 
by  the  offer  of  prizes  to  the  inventor  of  a  machine  to  enact  the 
ofiice  of  a  friend,  without  the  alloy  of  selfishness  and  disloyalty 
which  usually  mars  the  perfection  of  that  character  in  its  human 
form.  Another  prize  is  offered  for  a  machine  that  will  enact  mag- 
nanimity, and  another  for  one  that  will  produce  women  of  unper- 
verted  conjugal  instincts.  The  imaginary  conversation  between 
a  sprite  and  a  gnome  is  an  excellent  rebuke  to  self-love;  and 
24 


278  THE     SCEPTICAL    GENIUS. 

that  between  Malambruno  and  Farfarello  emphaticallj  indicates 
the  impossibility  of  obtaining  happiness  through  will,  or  the 
agency  even  of  superior  intelligence.  Leopardi's  hopelessness  is 
clearly  shown  in  the  dialogue  of  Nature  and  a  Soul,  wherein  the 
latter  refuses  the  great  endowments  offered  because  of  the  inev- 
itable attendant  suffering.  In  the  Earth  and  Moon's  interview, 
we  have  an  ingenious  satire  upon  that  shallow  philosophy  which 
derives  all  the  data  of  truth  from  individual  consciousness  and 
personal  experience. 

One  of  the  most  quaint  and  instructive  of  these  colloquies  is 
that  between  Federico  Ruysch  and  his  mummies,  in  which  the 
popular  notion  of  the  pain  of  dying  is  refuted  by  the  alleged 
proof  of  experience.  The  mummies,  in  their  midnight  song, 
declare  the  condition  of  death  to  be  lieta  wo,  ma  sicura.  Phys- 
iologically considered,  all  pleasure  is  declared  to  be  attended  with 
a  certain  languor.  Burke  suggests  the  same  idea  in  reference  to 
the  magnetical  effects  of  beauty  on  the  nervous  system ;  and  this 
agreeable  state  is  referred  to  by  the  mummies  to  give  their  inquis- 
itive owner  an  idea  of  the  sensation  of  dying.  The  philosophy 
of  this  subject,  the  vague  and  superstitious  fears  respecting  it, 
have  recently  engaged  the  attention  of  popular  medical  writers ; 
but  the  essential  points  are  clearly  unfolded  in  this  little  dialogue 
of  Leopardi. 

In  his  essay  entitled  Detti  Memorabili  di  Fillppo  OttotiicTi^ 
we  have  apparently  an  epitome  of  his  own  creed ;  at  least,  the 
affinity  between  the  maxims  and  habits  here  described  and  those 
which,  in  other  instances,  he  acknowledges  as  personal,  is  quite 
obvious.  Ottonieri  is  portrayed  as  a  man  isolated  in  mind  and 
sympathies,  though  dwelling  among  his  kind.  He  thought  that 
the  degree  in  which  individuality  of  life  and  opinion  in  man  was 
regarded  as  eccentric  might  be  deemed  a  just  standard  of  civiliza- 
tion ;  as,  the  more  enlightened  and  refined  the  state  of  society, 
the  more  such  originality  was  respected  and  regarded  as  natural. 
He  is  described  as  ironical ;  but  the  reason  for  this  was  that  he 
was  deformed  and  unattractive  in  person,  like  Socrates,  yet 
created  to  love  ;  and,  not  being  able  to  win  this  highest  gratifica- 
tion, so  conversed  as  to  inspire  both  fear  and  esteem.  He  culti- 
vated wisdom,  and  tried  to  console  himself  with  friendship ;  more- 


GIACO  MO    LEOPARD  I.  279 

over,  his  irony  was  not  sdegnosa  ed  acerba^  ma  riposata  e 
dolce. 

He  was  of  opinion  that  the  greatest  delights  of  existence  are 
illusions,  and  that  children  find  everything  in  nothing,  and 
adults  nothing  in  everything.  He  compared  pleasure  to  odors, 
which  usually  promised  a  satisfaction  unrealized  by  taste  ;  and 
said,  of  some  nectar-drinking  bees,  that  they  were  blest  in  not 
understanding  their  own  happiness.  He  remarked  that  want  of 
consideration  occasioned  fiir  more  suffering  than  positive  and 
intentional  cruelty,  and  that  one  who  lived  a  gregarious  life 
would  utter  himself  aloud  when  alone,  if  a  fly  bit  him  ;  but  one 
accustomed  to  solitude  and  inward  life  would  often  be  silent  in 
company,  though  threatened  with  a  stroke  of  apoplexy.  He 
divided  mankind  into  two  classes  —  those  whose  characters  and 
instincts  are  overlaid  and  moulded  by  conformity  and  convention- 
alism, and  those  whose  natures  are  so  rich  or  so  strong  as  to 
assert  themselves  intact  and  habitually.  He  declared  that,  in 
this  age,  it  was  impossible  for  any  one  to  love  without  a  rival ; 
for  the  egotist  usually  combined  with  and  struggled  for  suprem- 
acy against  the  lover  in  each  individual.  He  considered  delusion 
a  requisite  of  all  human  enjoyment,  and  thought  man,  like  the 
child  who  from  a  sweet-rimmed  chalice  imbibed  the  medicine, 
according  to  Tasso's  simile,  e  daV  inganno  sus  vita  riceve.  In 
these,  and  many  other  ideas  attributed  to  Ottonieii,  we  recognize 
the  tone  of  feeling  and  the  experience  of  Leopardi ;  and  the 
epitaph  with  which  it  concludes  breathes  of  the  same  melancholy, 
but  intelligent  and  aspiring  nature  :  ^^Nato  alle  opere  virtuose  e 
alia  gloria^  vissttto  ozioso  e  dlsutile,  e  inorto  sensa  fama  non 
ignaro  delta  natura  m  delta  fortuna  sua  J' 

The  Wager  of  Prometheus  is  a  satire  upon  civilization,  in 
which  a  cannibal  feast,  a  Hindoo  widow's  sacrifice,  and  a  suicide 
in  London,  are  brought  into  vivid  and  graphic  contrast.  To 
exhibit  the  fallacy  which  estimates  life,  merely  as  such,  a  bless- 
ing, and  to  show  that  it  consists  in  sensitive  and  moral  experi- 
ence rather  than  in  duration,  as  color  is  derived  from  light,  and 
not  from  the  objects  of  which  it  is  but  a  quality,  he  gives  us  an 
animated  and  discriminating  argument  between  a  metaphysician 
and  a  materialist;    and,  in  illustration  of  the  absolute  mental 


280        THE  SCEPTICAL  GENIUS. 

nature  of  happiness  when  closely  analyzed,  he  takes  us  to  the  cell 
of  Tasso,  where  a  most  characteristic  and  suggestive  discussion 
takes  place  between  him  and  his  familiar  genius.  The  tyranny 
of  Nature,  her  universal  and  inevitable  laws,  unredeemed,  to 
Leopardi's  view,  by  any  compensatory  spiritual  principle,  is  dis- 
played in  an  interview  between  her  and  one  of  her  discontented 
subjects,  wherein  she  declares  man's  felicity  an  object  of  entire 
indifference ;  her  arrangements  having  for  their  end  only  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  universe  by  a  constant  succession  of  destruction 
and  renovation. 

His  literary  creed  is  emphatically  recorded  in  the  little  treatise 
on  Parini  o  vero  delta  Gloria ;  and  it  exhibits  him  as  a  true 
nobleman  in  letters,  although  the  characteristic  sadness  of  his 
mind  is  evident  in  his  severe  estimate  of  the  obstacles  which 
interfere  with  the  recognition  of  an  original  and  earnest  writer  ; 
for  to  this  result,  rather  than  fame,  his  argument  is  directed.  As 
a  vocation,  he  considers  authorship  unsatisfactory,  on  account  of 
its  usual  effect,  when  sedulously  pursued,  upon  the  animal  econ- 
omy. He  justly  deems  the  capacity  to  understand  and  sympathize 
with  a  great  writer  extremely  rare ;  the  preoccupation  of  society 
in  the  immediate  and  the  personal,  the  inundation  of  books  in 
modern  times,  the  influence  of  prejudice,  ignorance,  and  narrow- 
ness of  mind,  the  lack  of  generous  souls,  mental  satiety,  frivolous 
tastes,  decadence  of  enthusiasm  and  vigor  in  age,  and  impatient 
expectancy  in  youth,  are  among  the  many  and  constant  obstacles 
against  Avliich  the  individual  who  appeals  to  his  race,  through 
books,  has  to  contend.  He  also  dwells  upon  the  extraordinary 
influence  of  prescriptive  opinion,  wedded  to  a  few  antique  exam- 
ples, upon  the  literary  taste  of  the  age.  He  considei*s  the  secret 
power  of  genius,  in  literature,  to  exist  in  an  indefinable  charm  of 
style  almost  as  rarely  appreciated  as  it  is  exercised;  and  he 
thinks  great  writing  only  an  inevitable  substitute  for  great  action, 
the  development  of  the  heroic,  the  beautiful,  and  the  true  in  lan- 
guage, opinion,  and  sentiment,  which  under  propitious  circum- 
stances would  have  been  embodied,  with  yet  greater  zeal,  in  deeds. 
He  thus  views  the  art  in  which  he  excelled,  in  its  most  disinter- 
ested and  noblest  relations. 

There  is  great  naturalness,  and  a  philosophic  tone,  in  the 


GIACOMO     LEOPARDI.  281 

interview  between  Columbus  and  one  of  his  companions,  as  they 
approach  the  New  World.  In  the  Eulogy  on  Birds,  it  is  touch- 
ing to  perceive  the  keen  appreciation  Leopardi  had  of  the  joyous 
side  of  life,  his  complete  recognition  of  it  as  a  phase  of  nature, 
and  his  apparent  unconsciousness  of  it  as  a  state  of  feeling.  The 
blithe  habits  of  the  feathered  creation,  their  vivacity,  motive 
power,  and  jocund  strains,  elicit  as  loving  a  commentary  as 
Audubon  or  Wilson  ever  penned  ;  but  they  are  described  only  to 
be  contrasted  with  the  hollow  and  evanescent  smiles  of  his  own 
species ;  and  the  brief  illusions  they  enjoy  are  pronounced  more 
desirable  than  those  of  such  singers  as  Dante  and  Tasso,  to  whom 
imagination  was  Sifimestlssima  dote^  e  principio  di  sollecitudini^ 
e  angosce  gravisslme  c  perpeliie.  With  the  tokens  of  his  rare 
intelligence  and  sensibility  before  us,  it  is  affecting  to  read  his 
wish  to  be  converted  into  a  bird,  in  order  to  experience  a  whilo 
their  contentment  and  joy. 

The  form  of  these  writings  is  peculiar.  We  know  of  no  Eng- 
lish prose  work  at  all  similar,  except  the  Imaginary  Conversations 
of  Landor,  and  a  few  inferior  attempts  of  a  like  character.  But 
there  is  one  striking  distinction  between  Leopardi  and  his  classic 
English  prototype ;  the  former's  aim  is  always  to  reproduce  the 
opinions  and  modes  of  expression  of  his  characters,  while  the 
latter  chiefly  gives  utterance  to  his  own.  This  disguise  was 
adopted,  we  imagine,  in  a  degree,  from  prudential  motives.  Con- 
scious of  sentiments  at  variance  with  the  accepted  creed,  both 
in  religion  and  philosophy,  the  young  Italian  recluse  summoned 
historical  personages,  Avhose  memories  were  hallowed  to  the 
imagination,  or  allegorical  characters,  whose  names  were  asso- 
ciated with  the  past,  and,  through  their  imaginary  dialogues, 
revealed  his  own  fancies,  meditiitions,  and  emotions.  In  fact,  a 
want  of  sympathy  with  the  age  is  one  of  the  prominent  traits  of 
his  mind.  He  was  sceptical  in  regard  to  the  alleged  progress  of 
the  race,  had  little  faith  in  the  wisdom  of  newspapers,  and  doubted 
the  love  of  truth  for  her  own  sake,  as  the  master  principle  of 
modern  science  and  literature.  Everywhere  he  lauds  the  nega- 
tive. Ignorance  is  always  bliss,  and  sleep,  that  "  knits  up  the 
ravelled  sleeve  of  care,"  the  most  desirable  blessing  enjoyed  by 
mortals.    He  scorns  compromise  with  evil,  and  feels  it  is  "nobler 


282        THE  SCEPTICAL  GENIUS. 

in  the  mind  to  suffer"  than  to  reconcile  itself  to  error  and  pain 
through  cowardice,  illusion,  or  stupidity.  He  writes  to  solace 
himself  by  expression  ;  and  he  writes  in  a  satirical  and  humorous 
vein,  because  it  is  less  annoying  to  others,  and  more  manly  in 
itself,  than  wailing  or  despair.  Thus,  Leopardi's  misanthropy 
differs  from  that  of  Rousseau  and  Byron  in  being  more  intel- 
lectual ;  it  springs  not  so  much  from  exasperated  feeling  as  from 
the  habitual  contemplation  of  painful  truth.  Philosophy  is  rather 
an  available  medicament  to  him  than  an  ultimate  good. 

Patriotism,  learning,  despair,  and  love,  are  expressed  in  Leo- 
pardi's verse  with  emphatic  beauty.  There  is  an  antique  grandeur, 
a  solemn  wail,  in  his  allusions  to  his  country,  which  stirs,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  melts  the  heart.  This  sad  yet  noble  melody  is 
quite  untranslatable ;  and  we  must  content  ourselves  with  an 
earnest  reference  to  some  of  these  eloquent  and  finished  lyrical 
strains.  How  grand,  simple,  and  pathetic,  is  the  opening  of  the 
first,  AV  Italia  ! 

"  0  patria  mia,  vedo  le  mura  e  gli  archi 
E  le  colonne  e  i  simulacri  e  I'erme 

V 

Torri  degli  avi  nostri, 

Ma  la  gloria  non  vedo, 

Non  vedo  il  lauro  e  il  ferro  ond'eran  carchi 

I  nostri  padri  antichi.     Or  fatta  inerme 

Nuda  la  fronte  e  nudo  il  petto  mostri. 

Oime  quante  ferite, 

Che  lividor,  che  sangue  !  oh  qual  ti  veggio, 

Forraosisiima  donna  !    lo  chiedo  al  cielo 

E  al  mondo  :  dite,  dite, 

Chi  la  ridusse  a  tale?    E  questo  e  peggio, 

Che  di  catene  ha  carche  aiube  le  braccia. 

Si  che  sparte  le  chiome  e  senza  velo 

Siede  in  terra  negletta  e  sconsalata, 

Nascondendo  la  faccia 

Tra  le  ginocchia,  e  piange.'* 

In  the  same  spirit  are  the  lines  on  the  Monument  to  Dante^ 
to  whom  he  says : 

**  Beato  te  che  il  fate 

A  viver  non  danno  fra  tanto  orrore  ; 
Che  non  vedesti  in  braccio 
L'itala  moglie  a  barbaro  soldato. 
*        *        «        *        « 


GIACOMO     LEOPARD  I.  283 

Non  si  conviene  a  si  corrotta  usanza 
Questa  d  'animl  eccelsi  altrice  a  scola  : 
Se  di  codardi  e  stanza, 
Meglio  I'e  rimaner  vedova  e  sola." 

The  poem  to  Angelo  Mai,  on  his  discovery  of  the  Republic  of 
Cicero,  is  of  kindred  tone  —  the  scholar's  triumph  blending  with 
the  patriot's  grief.  An  identical  vein  of  feeling,  also,  we  recog- 
nize, under  another  form,  in  the  poem  written  for  his  sister's 
nuptials.  Bitterly  he  depicts  the  fate  of  woman  in  a  country 
where 

**  Virtu  viva  sprezziam,  lodiamo  estinta  ; " 
and  declares  — 

**  0  miseri  o  codardi 
Figluioli  avrai.     Miseri  eleggi.     Immenso 
Tra  fortuna  e  valor  dissidio  pose 
II  corrotto  costume.     Ahi  troppo  tardi, 
£  nella  sera  dell  'umane  cose, 
Acquista  oggi  chi  nasce  il  moto  e  il  scnso.** 

Bruio  Minore  is  vigorous  in  conception,  and  exquisitely  modu- 
lated. In  the  hymn  to  the  patriarchs.  La  Primavera,  II  Sabato 
del  Vildggio^  Alia  Luna,  II  Passaro  Solitaria,  II  Canto  not- 
turno  cT  iin  Pastore  err  ante  in  Asia,  and  other  poems,  Leo- 
pardi  not  only  gives  true  descriptive  hints,  with  tact  and  fidelity, 
but  reproduces  the  sentiment  of  the  hour,  or  the  scene  he  cele- 
brates, breathing  into  his  verse  the  latent  music  they  awaken  in 
the  depths  of  thought  and  sensibility;  the  rhythm,  the  words, 
the  imagery,  all  combine  to  produce  this  result,  in  a  way  analo- 
gous to  that  by  which  great  composers  harmonize  sound,  or  the 
masters  of  landscape  blend  colors,  giving  birth  to  the  magical 
effect  which,  under  the  name  of  tone,  constitutes  the  vital  prin- 
ciples of  such  emanations  of  genius. 

But  not  only  in  exalted  patriotic  sentiment,  and  graphic  por- 
traiture, nor  even  in  artistic  skill,  resides  all  the  individuality 
of  Leopardi  as  a  poet.  His  tenderness  is  as  sincere  as  it  is 
manly.  There  is  an  indescribable  sadness  native  to  his  soul, 
quite  removed  from  acrid  gloom,  or  weak  sensibility.  We 
have  already  traced  it  in  his  opinions  and  in  his  life;  but  its 
most  affecting  and  impressive  expression  is  revealed  in  his  poetry. 


284        THE  SCEPTICAL  GENIUS. 

n  Primo  Amore,  La  Sera  del  Di  di  Festa,  II  RisorgimentOt 
and  other  effusions,  in  a  similar  vein,  are  instinct  with  this  deep 
yet  attractive  melancholy,  the  offspring  of  profound  thought  and 
emotion.  ^^Uscir  di  pena^''^  he  sadly  declares,  "e  diletto  fra 
noi ;  non  brillin  gll  odd  se  non  di  pianto  ;  due  cose  belle  ha 
it  mondo  :  amore  e  morto!'^  In  that  most  characteristic  poem, 
Amore  e  Marie,  he  speaks  of  the  maiden  who  la  geyitilezza  del 
tnorir  comprende : 

**  Quando  novellamente 
Nasce  nel  cor  profondo 
Ua  amoroso  aflfetto, 

Languido  e  stanco  insiem  con  esse  in  petto 
Un  desiderio  di  morir  si  sente  : 
Come,  non  so :  ma  tale 
D'  amor  vero  e  possente  e  il  primo  effetto  ; 
Forse  gli  occhi  spaura 
Allor  questo  deserto  :  a  se  la  terra 
Forse  il  mortale  inabitabil  fatta 
Vede  omai  senza  quella 
Nova,  sola,  infinita 
Felicita  che  il  suo  pensier  figura  ; 
Ma  per  cagion  di  lui  grave  procella 
Prescntendo  il  suo  cor,  brama  quiete, 
Brama  raccorsi  in  porto 
Dinanzi  al  ficr  disio, 
Che  gia,  rugghiando»  intomo,  intomo  oscura.** 


THE  WRITER  FOR  THE   PEOPLE 

DANIEL  DE  FOE. 


Few  of  the  crowd  that  throng  the  old  avenues  of  Cripplegate, 
at  the  present  day,  revert  to  the  prophet  and  thinker  born  and 
bred  there,  whose  romance  has  been  the  household  story  of  two 
great  nations,  and  has  been  domesticated,  as  a  model  narrative,  in 
every  country  of  Europe  for  more  than  a  century.  Yet  there  ia 
no  name  which  should  be  more  gratefully  honored  by  a  London 
citizen  than  that  of  Daniel  De  Foe.  His  genius  and  efficiency 
vindicate  the  claims  even  of  "  a  nation  of  shopkeepers,"  and  turn 
that  satire  into  eulogy.  His  book  has  survived  the  more  finished 
writings  of  the  courtly  authors  who  ridiculed  him.  In  literature 
and  politics  he  was  essentially  a  representative  man ;  in  life  he 
stood  in  the  front  rank  of  the  people,  and  their  universal  recogni- 
tion has  long  since  crowned  his  memory  with  enduring  fame. 

In  the  great  national  problem  worked  out  and  permanently 
solved  by  the  course  of  events  and  the  war  of  opinion,  between 
the  birth  of  Puritanism  in  England  and  the  realization  of  consti- 
tutional liberty  under  William  of  Orange,  many  illustrious  names 
appear  identified  with  the  progress  of  civil  and  religious  freedom. 
In  the  field,  the  council,  the  church,  the  courts,  in  society  and  in 
literature,  these  noble  advocates  taught,  struggled,  endured,  and 
often  died,  in  behalf  of  truths  and  privileges  sacred  to  humanity. 
Among  those  who  promoted  the  great  end  in  the  noblest  way,  — 
that  is,  by  appeals  to  reason,  and  by  assiduous  endeavors  to  en- 
lighten the  masses.  —  no  one  deserves  higher  credit  than  Daniel 


286       THE  WRITER  FOR  THE  PEOPLE. 

De  Foe.  And  yet,  by  one  of  those  caprices  of  fame,  which  so 
often  astonish  us  in  the  history  of  gifted  men,  this  voluminous 
writer  and  stanch  advocate  of  human  freedom  and  a  progressive 
civic  life  is  chiefly,  and,  so  far  as  the  many  are  concerned,  ex- 
clusively, known  as  the  author  of  the  most  popular  story  in  the 
English  language.  The  fierce  polemical  works  upon  which  the 
vigor  of  his  years  was  expended,  the  strange  vicissitudes,  the 
public  services,  and  the  private  virtues,  of  the  man  De  Foe,  have 
been  lost  sight  of  in  the  renown  of  the  author  of  Robinson  Cru- 
soe. Indeed,  that  familiar  book,  in  the  popular  imagination,  is 
rather  esteemed  as  a  lucky  hit  of  inventive  genius,  than  as  the 
flowering  of  a  mind  rendered  earnest  and  fruitful  through  a  life 
of  anxious  mental  toil  and  relentless  persecution.  To  one  thor- 
oughly acquainted  with  De  Foe's  career,  and  aware  of  his  for- 
tunes and  achievements,  the  remarkable  fiction  which  embalms 
his  memory  has  a  new  and  pathetic  significance.  It  was  his  first 
attempt  to  enlist  his  extraordinary  powers  in  a  work  of  pure  lite- 
rary art.  To  write  it,  he  stood  aloof  from  the  party  strife  in 
which,  for  thirty  years,  his  thoughts  had  been  engaged.  Like  a 
brave  soldier  who  had  returned  home  from  a  long  but  successful 
campaign,  with  victory  achieved,  yet  no  spoils  acquired,  he  seems 
to  have  laid  aside  the  armor  of  political  and  religious  warfare, 
cheered  only  by  a  sense  of  duty  bravely  performed,  and  then,  in 
the  autumn  of  life,  the  lull  of  the  storm,  the  pensive  twilight  of 
honest  age,  yielded  himself  to  a  work  prompted  by  his  own  idio- 
syncrasies, unmarred  by  faction,  and  thoroughly  adapted  to  the 
popular  heart.  The  intrinsic  charm  of  the  narrative,  therefore, 
is  infinitely  expanded  when  thus  viewed  with  reference  to  D© 
Foe's  circumstances  and  aims. 

Could  the  life  of  this  extraordinary  man  be  represented  in  a 
dramatic  form,  we  should  behold  him  in  the  utmost  extremes  of 
social  position,  each  explicable  by  his  course  as  an  author.  He 
might  be  seen  the  familiar  and  admired  habitue  of  a  Puritan  coffee- 
house, ardently  discussing  the  latest  news  from  the  seat  of  war, 
or  the  local  question  of  the  hour ;  alternating  between  his  hosier's 
shop  in  Cornhill  and  the  Dissenters'  chapel  at  Surrey ;  in  arms 
for  the  Duke  of  Monmouth ;  one  of  the  handsomely-mounted 
escort  of  volunteers  who  attended  William  and  Mary  from  White- 


DANIEL     DE    FOE.  287 

hall  to  the  Mansion  House ;  a  bankrupt  refugee,  talking  with 
Selkirk  at  the  Ked  Lion  Tavern  in  Bristol ;  the  confidential  vis- 
itor ensconced  in  the  cabinet  of  William  of  Orange ;  the  occupant 
of  a  cell  in  Newgate ;  an  honored  guest  at  Edinburgh,  promoting 
the  Union ;  a  secret  ambassador  to  the  Continent ;  the  delegate 
of  the  people,  handing  to  Harley  a  mammoth  petition ;  the  cyno- 
sure of  a  hundred  sympathetic  and  respectful  eyes  as  he  stands 
in  the  pillory ;  in  comfortable  retirement  at  Newington ;  and  at 
last  a  victim  of  filial  ingratitude,  his  health  wasted  in  noble  intel- 
lectual toil,  dying  at  the  age  of  seventy.  Such  are  a  few  of  the 
strong  contrasts  which  the  mere  external  drama  of  De  Foe's  life 
presents. 

To  appreciate  his  course  we  must  vividly  recall  the  events  of 
his  time  and  the  spirit  of  his  age.  As  if  ordained  by  Providence 
for  a  legitimate  representative  of  the  English  mind,  he  derived 
his  descent  from  the  better  class  of  yeomen ;  his  birthplace  was 
the  heart  of  London ;  and  his  home  was  chiefly  there  at  a  period 
when  its  citizenship  was  a  high  distinction  and  privilege,  whea 
municipal  glory  had  not  faded  before  the  splendor  of  fashion,  now 
dominant  in  a  region  which,  in  De  Foe's  time,  was  suburban,  and 
when  locomotive  facilities  had  not  almost  identified  town  and 
country.  One  of  the  people  by  birth  and  association,  he  became 
more  intimately  related  to  them  through  his  public  spirit,  his 
political  ideas,  and  his  religious  sentiments.  These  were  all 
essentially  democratic.  The  wants  of  the  ignorant  many,  the 
thirst  for  social  reform,  the  popular  basis  of  the  constitution,  and 
the  right  of  free  judgment  and  action  in  religion,  appear  to  have 
been  original  instincts  rather  than  mere  opinions  in  the  mind  of 
De  Foe.  They  were  confirmed  by  the  family  discipline,  the 
non-conformist  rites,  the  simple  habits,  and  the  manly  self-reli- 
ance, incident  to  the  household  of  a  dissenting  London  trader  of 
that  day. 

Although  so  obviously  endowed  for  the  vocation  of  an  author, 
De  Foe  began  life  as  a  tradesman.  Cut  off"  by  his  religious  asso- 
ciations from  any  share  in  a  university  education,  he  studied  the 
higher  academic  branches  with  a  preceptor  of  his  own  faith,  of 
acknowledged  scholarship ;  and  at  first  designed  to  adopt  the  cler- 
ical profession.   In  his  commercial  speculations  he  was  unsuccess- 


288       THE  WRITER  FOR  THE  PEOPLE. 

ful,  as  might  have  been  anticipated ;  for  his  mind  was  too  specu- 
lative to  engage  prosperously  in  business,  for  which,  however,  he 
was  not  deficient  in  talent,  as  his  appointment  as  secretary,  first 
to  a  glass  and  then  to  a  brick  manufacturing  company,  suffi- 
ciently proves.  His  friends  also  arranged  a  mercantile  enterprise 
for  him  at  Cadiz ;  but  he  yielded  to  a  strong  innate  conviction 
that  his  appropriate  sphere  was  England,  and  his  first  duty  that 
of  a  writer.  Trade,  however,  while  it  proved  unfortunate  as  a 
pursuit,  elicited  character,  and  yielded  valuable  lessons.  He, 
with  rare  integrity,  paid  the  balance  of  his  debts,  when  subse- 
quently enriched,  although  legally  acquitted  by  a  compromise ; 
and  his  knowledge  of  the  wants,  usages,  and  condition,  of  the 
"English  Tradesman,"  enabled  him  to  write  the  useful  and  sug- 
gestive treatise  which  bears  that  title.  It  gave  him  also  a  fund 
of  experience ;  and  we  trace  in  his  books  a  familiarity  with  human 
nature  and  London  life,  that  could  in  few  other  ways  have  been 
so  authentically  gained.  While  Swift  was  noting  the  banquets 
he  attended  for  the  diversion  of  Stella,  Steele  dodging  bailiffs  in 
his  luxurious  establishment,  Addison,  in  elegant  trim,  paying  his 
court  to  the  Countess  of  Warwick,  and  Bolingbroke  embodying 
his  heartless  philosophy  in  artificial  rhetoric,  De  Foe  was  wres- 
tling for  truth  in  Cripplegate.  A  man  of  the  people,  a  writer  of 
plain,  vigorous,  unembellished  English,  there  he  stood,  manfully 
claiming  the  right  of  private  judgment ;  battling  to  the  death 
against  the  prejudices  Avhich  interfered  with  a  liberal  govern- 
ment ;  explaining,  with  intelligent  emphasis,  the  popular  basis  of 
the  constitution;  initiating  that  philosophy  of  trade,  of  social 
economy,  of  charitable  institutions,  and  of  literature,  then  a  bold 
and  radical  innovation,  now,  in  its  varied  forms,  recognized  as  the 
evidence  of  human  progress,  and  the  pledge  of  a  glorious  future. 
Taste,  wit,  and  refined  sensualism,  were  the  dominant  ti'aits  of  the 
acknowledged  men  of  genius  in  society  around  him ;  privation, 
slander,  imprisonment,  and  ridicule,  were  the  reward  of  his  manly 
self-consecration.  His  contemporary  authors  are  known  to  us 
through  elaborate  and  loving  memoirs;  their  portraits  adorn 
noble  galleries;  scholars  still  emulate  their  works,  and  glorify 
them  in  reviews ;  while  their  monumental  effigies  are  clustered 
in  imposing  beauty  in  the  venerable  Abbey.     Our  knowledge  of 


DANIEL     DE     FOE.  289 

De  Foe's  appearance  is  chiefly  derived  from  an  advertisement 
describing  him  as  a  fugitive.*  His  birth  and  name  have  been  sub- 
jects of  dispute.  Of  his  domestic  correspondence  we  have  only  a 
letter  describing  the  unfilial  improvidence  of  his  son.f  It  is  im- 
possible to  identify  all  his  works.  He  is  mentioned  by  the  writers 
of  his  day  only  in  the  bitter  terms  of  party  hatred ;  and  his  mor- 
tal remains  are  blended  with  the  martyred  dust  of  Bunhill  Fields. 
The  political  writings  of  De  Foe  emphatically  define  his  career 
as  an  English  citizen;  and,  although  many  of  them  have  lost 
their  chief  interest  from  the  temporary  nature  of  the  subjects  dis- 
cussed, yet  they  are  all  impressive  landmarks  to  indicate  the  con- 
sistent, fearless,  and  rational  spirit,  the  indomitable  industry,  and 
loyalty  of  purpose,  which  distinguished  his  life.     "With  every 

*  ♦'  Whereas  Daniel  De  Foe,  alias  De  Fooe,  is  charged  with  writing  a  scan- 
dalous and  seditious  pamphlet,  entitled  *  The  Shortest  Way  with  the  Dissenters  ;' 
he  is  a  middle-sized,  spare  man,  about  forty  years  old,  of  a  brown  complexion, 
and  dark  brown-colored  hair,  but  wears  a  wig  ;  a  hooked  nose,  a  sharp  chin, 
gray  eyes,  and  a  large  mole  near  his  mouth  ;  was  born  in  London,  and  for  many 
years  was  a  hose-factor,  in  Freeman's  yard,  in  Cornhill,  and  now  is  owner  of  the 
brick  and  pantile  works  near  Tilbury  Fort,  in  Essex.  W^hoever  shall  discover 
the  said  Daniel  De  Foe  to  one  of  her  majesty's  principal  secretaries  of  state,  or 
any  of  her  majesty's  justices  of  the  peace,  so  as  he  may  be  apprehended,  shall 
have  a  reward  of  fifty  pounds,  which  her  majesty  has  ordered  immediately  to  be 
paid  on  such  discovery."  —  London  Gazette,  Jan.  10, 1702—3. 

t  •'  But  it  has  been  the  injustice,  unkindness,  and,  I  must  say,  inhuman  dealing 
of  my  own  son,  which  has  both  ruined  my  family,  and,  in  a  word,  has  broken  my 
heart ;  and,  as  I  am  at  this  time  under  a  very  heavy  weight  of  illness,  which  I 
think  will  be  a  fever,  I  take  this  occasion  to  vent  my  grief  in  the  breasts  who  I 
know  will  make  a  prudent  use  of  it,  and  tell  you,  nothing  but  this  has  conquered 
or  could  conquer  me.  Et  tu,  Brute !  I  depended  upon  him,  I  trusted  him,  I 
gave  up  my  two  dear,  unprovided  children  into  his  hands  ;  but  he  has  no  com- 
passion, and  suflers  them  and  their  poor  dying  mother  to  beg  their  bread  at  his 
door,  and  to  crave,  as  if  it  were  an  alms,  what  he  is  bound,  under  hand  and 
seal,  and  by  the  most  sacred  promises,  to  supply  them  with  —  himself  at  the 
same  time  living  in  a  profusion  of  plenty.  It  is  too  much  for  me.  Excuse  my 
infirmity  ;  I  can  say  no  more  ;  my  heart  is  too  full.  I  only  ask  one  thing  of  you 
as  a  dying  request.  Stand  by  them  when  I  am  gone,  and  let  them  not  be  wronged 
while  he  is  able  to  do  them  right.  Stand  by  them  as  a  brother  ;  and  if  you  have 
anything  within  you  owing  to  my  memory,  who  have  bestowed  on  you  the  best 
gift  I  had  to  give,  let  them  not  be  injured  and  trampled  on  by  false  pretences  and 
unnatural  reflections.  I  hope  they  will  want  no  help  but  that  of  comfort  and 
counsel  ;  but  that  they  will  indeed  want,  being  too  easy  to  be  managed  by  words 
and  promises." — Letter  of  De  Foe  to  his  son-in-lawy  Mr.  Baker,  the  celebrated 
naturalist. 

25 


290  THE     WRITER     FOR     THE     PEOPLE. 

successive  phase  of  history,  every  important  act  of  the  govern- 
ment, or  significant  demonstration  by  the  people,  an  essay,  a 
satire,  or  an  appeal,  from  his  ready  and  earnest  pen,  gives  token 
of  vigilance  and  enthusiasm.  His  pamphlets,  like  alert  guerilla 
parties,  keep  up  a  running  and  sometimes  isolated,  yet  none  the 
less  effective  fire,  along  the  line  of  political  combatants.  Always 
ranged  on  the  side  of  popular  right  and  religious  liberty,  his 
pleas,  by  their  simplicity  and  good  sense,  invariably  won  the 
attention  of  the  masses,  and  irritated  the  tory  faction.  Usually 
published  anonymously,  and  often  under  the  disguise  of  irony  or 
quaint  allegory,  they  betrayed  a  cleverness  which  even  the  fash- 
ionable wits  could  not  deny.  Thus,  by  seasonable  invective  and 
keen  satire,  De  Foe  scattered  the  elements  of  great  political 
truths  among  the  heated  minds  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  antici- 
pated the  progress  of  popular  enlightenment,  and  furnished  the 
ignorant  and  the  oppressed  with  arguments  that  sanctioned  their 
endeavors. 

It  was  opposition  to  the  plans  of  James  in  regard  to  the  suc- 
cession, and  not  aflSnity  with  the  character  of  Monmouth,  that 
enlisted  him  in  the  romantic  and  vain  enterprise  of  the  latter. 
To  Queen  Anne's  natural  goodness  of  heart  and  Harley's  secret 
political  bias  he  owed  his  enfranchisement.  His  ironical  tirade 
against  the  Hanoverian  cause  was  so  utterly  misunderstood,  that, 
for  a  while,  he  suffered  persecution  as  its  enemy.  But  his  rela- 
tion to  William  of  Orange  was  intimate  and  genuine.  The  char- 
acter of  that  monarch  was  akin  to  his  own.  There  was  between 
them  a  sympathy  of  mind;  courage,  liberal  views,  and  moral 
energy,  were  alike  the  characteristics  of  the  author  and  the  king. 
De  Foe  effectively  advanced  the  measures  of  his  royal  patron,  and 
was  devoted  to  his  cause  and  his  memory. 

If  we  examine  critically  his  miscellaneous  writings,  and  refer 
to  the  dates  of  important  civil  and  social  reforms,  his  direct  agency 
in  their  achievement  will  impressively  appear.  With  the  fore- 
sight attained  only  by  a  lover  of  truth,  he  anticipated  the  great 
improvements  of  the  last  and  the  present  century,  and  often  gave 
the  first  hint  of  their  necessity,  or  the  primal  argument  for  their 
adoption.  The  superior  brilliancy  of  later  writers  has  kept  his 
precedence  out  of  view.     Yet  there  is  scarcely  a  remarkable  social 


DANIEL     DE     FOE.  291 

or  literary  phenomenon,  resulting  from  the  progress  of  ideas, 
which  we  cannot  trace  directly  or  indirectly  to  De  Foe.  He  was 
a  pioneer  in  the  great  cause  of  human  advancement,  and  his  name 
should  be  identified  with  many  of  the  popular  topics  and  enter- 
prises of  our  own  day.  The  universal  political  theme  of  this 
moment  is  what  is  called  ''  the  Eastern  Question."*  The  first 
pamphlet  of  De  Foe,  written  before  the  age  of  manhood,  was 
devoted  to  a  kindred  subject,  in  which  he  argued  that  it  was 
''  better  that  the  Popish  house  of  Austria  should  ruin  the  Pro- 
testants in  Hungary,  than  that  the  infidel  house  of  Ottoman 
should  ruin  both  Protestants  and  Papists."  The  reality  of  spir- 
itual communications  is  now  a  fertile  text  for  tongue  and  press 
De  Foe's  essay  on  "  Apparitions  "  may  not  only  be  read  with 
advantage  by  the  credulous  and  the  sceptical,  but  is  a  striking 
evidence  of  the  identity  of  feeling  on  that  subject  then  and  now. 
''  Between  our  ancestors'  laying  too  much  stress  upon  them,"  he 
says,  "  and  the  present  age  endeavoring  wholly  to  explode  and 
despise  them,  the  world  seems  hardly  ever  to  have  come  to  a 
right  understanding,"  And  again  :  "  Spirit  is  certainly  some- 
thing we  do  not  fully  understand  in  our  present  confined  circum- 
stances ;  and,  as  we  do  not  fully  understand  the  thing,  so  neither 
can  we  distinguish  its  operation.  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  this, 
it  converses  here,  is  with  us  and  among  us,  corresponds,  though 
unembodied,  with  our  spirits,  and  this  conversing  is  not  only  by 
an  invisible,  but  to  us  an  inconceivable  way,"  etc.  To  these 
speculations  he  brought  no  ordinary  learning  and  philosophy,  and 
while  he  recognizes  the  spiritual  element  in  life,  he  considers  it 
with  logic,  with  good  sense,  and  in  the  light  of  truth.  Constitu- 
tional freedom  has  been  the  favorite  idea  of  English  and  American 
statesmen  ;  but  De  Foe's  treatise  on  the  "  Original  Power  of  the 
Collective  Body  of  the  People  of  England  "  was  one  of  the  first 
and  most  daring  popular  expositions  of  a  doctrine  that  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  all  free  governments.  Political  economy  is  gener- 
ally considered  a  new  science ;  De  Foe's  commercial  writings,  his 
tract  entitled  '^  Giving  Alms  no  Charity,"  and  the  financial  sug- 
gestions thrown  out  in  his  "  Essay  on  Projects,"  anticipate  many 
of  the  axioms  of  later  philosophers  in  this  department.  It  is  to 
the  papers  in  the  Spectator  that  tlie  first  appreciation  of  Milton's 
♦  Written  in  1854. 


292  THE     WRITER    FOR    THE     PEOPLE. 

poetry  is  ascribed ;  yet  seven  years  before  Addison  designated  the 
sublimities  of  Paradise  Lost,  De  Foe  set  forth  its  author's  tran- 
Bcendent  claims.  The  institution  of  marriage  has  been  freely 
examined  in  our  day ;  De  Foe,  in  his  bold  reproach  of  its  abuse 
and  his  eloquent  exposition  of  its  religious  character,  was  in 
advance  of  his  times.  He  was  the  first  effectually  to  set  forth  the 
public  duty  of  instituting  asylums  for  the  insane  and  the  idiotic, 
of  establishing  commissioners  of  bankruptcy,  and  pensions  for  the 
indigent.  Sydney  Smith's  humorous  appeal  is  thought  by  many 
the  earliest  popular  argument  for  a  higher  grade  of  female  cul- 
ture ;  but  at  a  time  when  the  chivalric  element  was  all  but  extin- 
guished, and  women  were  treated  either  as  toys,  slaves,  or  idols,/ 
De  Foe  became  an  eloquent  and  able  advocate  for  the  education 
of  women.  "  A  woman  of  sense  and  manners,"  he  wrote,  '•  is 
the  finest  and  most  delicate  part  of  God's  creation  ;  and  it  is  the 
sordidest  piece  of  folly  and  ingratitude  to  withhold  from  the  sex 
the  lustre  which  the  advantage  of  education  gives  to  the  natural 
beauty  of  their  minds."  One  of  the  most  successful  of  modern 
ruses  is  the  famous  ''  Moon  Hoax ;"  De  Foe,  in  a  political  satire, 
developed  lunar  language,  and  narrated  incidents  of  lunar  ad- 
venture. He  recommended  the  establishment  of  a  society  for 
"  encouraging  polite  learning  and  improving  the  English  lan- 
guage," prior  to  Swift's  celebrated  letter  to  Lord  Oxford.  The 
most  interesting  fact,  however,  of  his  influence  as  a  thinker,  at 
least  to  our  American  sympathies,  is,  that  it  was  the  perusal  of 
De  Foe  that  aroused  the  dormant  sentiments  and  quickened  the 
mental  enterprise  of  Franklin.  "  I  found,  besides,"  he  says  in 
his  Autobiography,  "  a  work  of  De  Foe's,  entitled  an  *  Essay  on 
Projects,'  from  which,  perhaps,  I  derived  impressions  that  have 
since  influenced  some  of  the  principal  events  of  my  life."  His 
zest  for  new  truth,  and  his  recognition  of  liberal  principles,  were 
thus  confirmed  and  enlarged,  in  early  youth,  by  the  author  of 
Robinson  Crusoe.  De  Foe  anticipated  the  colonial  revolt  and  the 
triumph  of  freedom  in  America.  He  was  the  predecessor  of 
Rousseau  as  a  social  reformer.  He  ably  vindicated  the  right  of 
authors  to  a  permanent  share  in  the  income  of  their  works.  His 
geographical  speculations  were  confirmed  by  the  subsequent  dis- 
coveries of  Denham  and  Lander.     He  was  the  father  of  periodical 


DANIEL    DE    FOE.  293 

literature  ;  for  his  "  Review,"  first  planned  in  Newgate,  was  the 
harbinger  of  those  popular  miscellanies  that  delighted  and 
improved  the  readers  of  Queen  Anne's  day.  Nor  is  this  the 
world's  only  obligation  to  him  in  literature.  His  unprecedented 
and  instantly  successful  fiction  originated  the  English  novel,  and 
the  celebrated  aiithors  who  have  since  enchanted  us  and  made 
themselves  renowned  in  this  field,  all  trace  back  the  spells  they 
evoke  to  Daniel  De  Foe. 

It  is  a  singular  coincidence,  that  the  most  classical  poet  and 
the  most  successful  romancer  of  that  period,  in  England,  were  the 
sons  of  butchers.  Akenside,  born  ten  years  before  De  Foe's 
death,  carried  to  his  grave  a  memorial  of  the  paternal  vocation, 
in  regard  to  which  he  was  morbidly  sensitive,  in  the  form  of  a 
wound  that  caused  him  always  to  limp,  received  from  one  of  his 
father's  cleavers,  which  wjis  accidentally  dropped  on  the  embryo 
poet's  foot.  GifFord  made  cruel  use  of  the  plebeian  occupation 
of  the  elder  Keats,  in  his  attempt  to  mortify  the  sensitive  author 
of  Hyperion.  Do  Foe,  if  we  may  judge  by  the  spirit  of  his 
writings  and  the  tenor  of  his  life,  cheerfully  accepted  the  rank  in 
which  his  lot  was  cast.  He  knew  the  true  dignity  of  human 
nature,  and  understood  that  all  genuine  power  and  fame  originate 
with,  or  must  be  sanctioned  by,  popular  sentiment.  It  was  an 
axiom  of  his  to  defy  the  critics,  if  he  could  but  have  the  people 
with  him.  It  may  seem  to  involve  no  great  heroism  or  perspi- 
cacity so  to  think  and  act ;  but  we  must  remember  that  De  Foe 
thus  reasoned  at  a  time  when  the  London  Gazette,  with  ita 
meagre  semi-weekly  announcement  of  court  news,  constituted 
journalism ;  when  Baxter's  voice  was  hushed  in  prison,  and  when 
our  brave  author  himself  had  barely  escaped  the  fangs  of  JeiFreys, 
to  endure  the  long  torture  of  inveterate  proscription. 

With  the  virtues  De  Foe  combined  the  prejudices  of  the  non- 
conformists. He  expresses  an  unreasonable  contempt  for  May- 
poles and  the  theatre  ;  but  we  must  not  forget  that  it  was  against 
the  profligate  levity  ushered  in  by  the  Restoration,  of  which  these 
and  similar  pastimes  were  emblems,  rather  than  against  amuse- 
ment as  such,  that  his  indignation  was  levelled.  De  Foe  and  his 
colleagues  deeply  felt  their  responsibleness  to  the  noble  cause  in 
which  they  were  engaged.  A  battle  was  to  be  waged,  a  great 
25* 


294  THE    WRITER    FOR    THE     PEOPLE. 

national  reform  wrought ;  politics  and  religion,  freedom  and  civil 
progress,  were  to  them,  in  a  great  measure,  identical ;  the  social 
exigencies  of  the  times  impressed  them  too  keenly  to  admit  of  con- 
vivial enjoyment.  In  a  word,  they  were  in  earnest,  and  such  is 
not  the  mood  in  which  mere  pleasure-seeking  can  he  tolerated. 
Yet  De  Foe  wonderfully  preserved  his  candor  and  self-respect  in 
the  heat  of  controversy;  and  boasts  with  reason,  that,  while 
engaged  in  satirizing  his  opponents,  he  never  used  their  personal 
misfortunes  or  infirmities  to  make  "  the  galled  jade  wince."  He 
early  acquired  the  lessons  of  self-discipline,  and  bore  himself  with 
prowess,  but  in  a  calm  and  self-reliant  manner.  "  In  the  school 
of  affliction,"  he  says,  "I  have  learned  more  than  at  the  acad- 
emy, and  more  divinity  than  from  the  pulpit." 

De  Foe's  career  as  an  author  was  quite  as  remarkable  for  its 
versatility  as  for  its  extent.  Besides  the  hundred  and  thirty- 
three  political  works  identified  as  his,  during  the  reigns  of  Anne 
and  George,  we  have  numerous  speculative  and  narrative 
writings,  and,  finally,  his  series  of  fictions.  He  turned  his  pen 
to  any  subject,  and  cast  his  thoughts  into  any  form  which  circum- 
stances made  desirable,  with  an  extraordinary  facility.  Now  we 
find  him  recording  the  casualties  of  a  remarkable  storm,  now 
hard  at  work  upon  a  "  Seasonable  Caution ;  "  one  day  engaged 
on  a  versified  eulogy  of  Scotland,  —  while  on  a  visit  there,  — 
published  under  the  title  of  "  Caledonia,"  and  another,  deep  in  a 
''  History  of  the  Union,"  which  he  had  been  an  effective  agent 
in  promoting.  To-day  it  is  a  commercial  essay ;  to-morrow,  a 
book  of  travels.  He  prepares  an  impressive  story  of  Mrs.  Veal's 
ghost,  which,  attached  to  a  heavy  book  on  *'  Death,"  gives  it  life 
at  once.  He  is  no  sooner  out  of  the  pillory,  than  he  indites  a 
philosophical  hymn  to  the  infamous  machine.  Shut  up  in  New- 
gate, he  starts  a  journal  on  a  new  and  better  plan  than  any 
before  known.  He  welcomes  Marlborough  home  with  stanzas  to 
Victory  ;  and,  when  the  war  is  over,  chants  the  glory  of  Peace. 
Opposed  to  the  existing  school  of  speculation,  he  groups  in  ironi- 
cal verse  the  poets,  sceptics,  and  mefci  physicians,  of  his  day.  He 
translates  Du  Fresnoy's  Art  of  Painting ;  and  tilts,  in  pungent 
rhymes,  against  the  divine  right  of  kings.  As  might  have  been 
anticipated,  such  rapid  and  varied  composition  admitted  of  no 


DANIEL    DE    FOE.  295 

finish  or  revision.  De  Foe's  cleverness  and  industry  are  more 
remarkable  than  his  taste  and  care.  His  object  usually  was  to 
produce  an  immediate  impression  on  the  world  of  opinion,  or  to 
supply  his  own  wants  by  his  pen-craft.  Hence  the  temporary 
interest  and  merely  incidental  value  of  many  of  his  writings. 
No  small  part  of  them,  however,  are  not  only  of  practical  use, 
but  of  historical  importance.  De  Foe  has  been  declared  by  a 
good  critic  Locke's  equal  in  reasoning.  Of  his  "  Essay  on 
Projects"  it  has  been  said,  that  it  is  more  rich  in  thought  than 
any  book  since  Bacon,  and  that  it  embodies  the  French  Revolu- 
tion without  its  follies.  His  great  mental  quality  was  vigorous 
sense.  He  was  deficient  in  the  love  of  the  beautiful,  and  seems 
to  have  had  an  inadequate  perception  of  art.  He  was  not  poeti- 
cal by  nature.  His  metrical  essays  owe  their  effect  wholly  to 
the  epigrammatic  hits  and  the  sound  argument  they  contain ;  the 
melodious  versification  of  his  contemporaries  never  taught  him 
rhythm ;  not  only  are  his  verses  destitute  of  refined  sentiment, 
but  they  are  singularly  harsh  and  unmusical.  He  belongs  to  the 
same  school  of  rhymers  with  Butler,  Swift,  and  Crabbe ;  not 
imagination  and  grace,  but  graphic  touches  and  wit,  redeem  his 
lines.  As  a  literary  artist  his  merit  lies  almost  exclusively  in 
prose  narrative.  Here  he  exhibited  all  the  individuality  of  his 
genius,  and  achieved  his  permanent  renown.  The  secret  of  his 
effective  style  of  narration  lies  in  simple  force  of  diction,  homely 
and  expressive  words,  and  an  elaborate  and  precise  statement  of 
details.  Together,  these  traits  form  a  whole  that  affects  the 
mind  with  all  the  distinctness  of  reality.  Dr.  Johnson  thought 
that  the  "  Adventures  of  Captain  Singleton,"  De  Foe's  second 
work  of  fiction,  was  a  record  of  facts  ;  Lord  Chatham  quoted  his 
"  Memoirs  of  a  Cavalier"  as  a  genuine  piece  of  biography  ;  and 
Dr.  Wood,  the  account  of  the  Plague  in  London  as  the  result  of 
personal  observation ;  while  the  credence  that  the  mass  of  readers 
bestowed  upon  the  story  of  Mrs.  Veal's  apparition  is  evident  from 
the  large  sale  it  at  once  secured  for  Drelincourt's  unpopular 
essay. 

It  is  curious  to  trace  the  progress  of  the  modern  novel  from 
Ionia  to  Italy,  and  thence  to  England ;  its  rudimental  and  imagin- 
ative style  in  the  East,  its  pedantic  and  sentimental  development 


296     THE  WRITER  FOR  THE  PEOPLE. 

in  Arcadian  romances,  and  its  simple,  direct,  matter-of-fact,  and 
human  interest  as  exhibited  by  De  Foe,  destined  to  be  rendered 
more  and  more  complex  and  artistic  with  the  increased  refine- 
ments and  divisions  of  society,  as  painted  by  Bulwer  and  Thack- 
eray. The  element  of  probability,  the  artistic  use  of  natural 
incidents  in  their  legitimate  order  and  specialties,  so  admirably 
illustrated  by  De  Foe,  is.  however,  as  indispensable  to  the  suc- 
cessful novelist  to-day  as  when  Robinson  Crusoe  appeared.  We 
can  easily  perceive  its  recognition  by  the  masters  of  romance. 
It  is  obvious  in  the  minute  local  and  personal  descriptions  of 
Scott,  in  Godwin's  details  of  consciousness,  and  even  in  the  gro- 
tesque pictures  of  still-life  by  Dickens.  Verisimilitude  is  the  great 
merit  of  De  Foe  as  a  novelist.  The  seeming  authenticity  of  his 
stories  is  also  greatly  enhanced  by  the  autobiogmphic  form  in 
which  they  are  cast.  He  is  a  model  narrator ;  passages  of  his 
fictions  read  like  the  testimony  elicited  in  a  court  of  justice ;  and 
incidental  and  apparently  trifling  circumstances  are  so  naturally 
interwoven,  as  to  give  a  singular  air  of  truth  to  the  whole.  Now 
the  plots  of  the  novelist  are  more  intricate,  his  characters  more 
finely  shaded  and  elaborately  wrought,  and  his  style  of  composi- 
tion raised  to  a  much  higher  sUmdard.  Yet  the  profound 
actuality  and  stern  truth  of  De  Foe  give  him  a  tenacious  hold  on 
the  common  sympathy ;  he  excites  deeper  faith,  and  inherits 
household  fame.  He  had  been  a  close  student  of  human  life  and 
human  nature,  in  their  most  inartificial  and  significant  phages. 
Born  of  a  sect  that  disdained  the  trappings  and  acknowledged  the 
spiritual  meaning  of  existence,  he  was  wedded  to  reality  from  his 
cradle.  His  conflict  with  fortune  was  hand  to  hand  and  uninter- 
mitted.  He  used  to  seek  communion  with  soldiers,  sailors,  and 
other  adventurous  offspring  of  his  own  transition  era.  He  was 
well  acquainted  with  Dampier,  the  navigator ;  he  saw  much  of 
foreign  countries,  took  counsel  with  kings,  studied  economics  in 
the  experience  of  trade,  authorship,  and  office,  witnessed  the  most 
remarkable  political  vicissitudes,  explored  the  mysteries  of  crime 
while  an  inmate  of  the  Old  Bailey,  knew  intimately  the  care  and 
the  solace  of  domestic  ties,  the  vip,er  sting  of  filial  ingratitude, 
and  the  inexpressible  worth  of  woman ;  he  was  ever  a  worker,  and 
no  butterfly,  —  always  observing,  reflecting,  noting  facts,  musing 


DANIEL     DE    FOE.  297 

on  the  past,  scanning  the  future,  and  keenly  watching  the  pres- 
ent. Thus  disciplined  and  enriched,  De  Foe's  mind  was  tempered 
in  the  furnace  of  affliction,  and  hence  it  is  that  he  writes  of  men 
and  things  with  such  truthful  power  and  practical  sense.  As  a 
child,  he  listened  to  incidents  of  the  civil  war  from  survivors ;  as 
a  youth,  he  fraternized  with  the  returned  soldiers  of  Marlborough, 
and  the  maritime  heroes  who  explored  unknown  seas.  The  coffee- 
house, the  docks,  the  shop,  the  palace,  the  jail,  the  fireside,  the 
strife  of  party,  and  the  sanctions  of  a  proscribed  religion,  inspired 
and  moulded  his  Anglo-Saxon  intelligence,  his  lion  spirit,  and 
humane  sentiments,  and  enabled  him  to  invent  from  experience 
with  unequalled  tact  and  an  enduring  charm. 

There  is  no  contrast  in  English  literature  more  entire  than  that 
between  De  Foe  and  the  fashionable  writers  of  his  day.  They 
indeed  ushered  in  a  more  graceful  epoch,  and  are  identified  with 
the  amenities  of  literary  and  social  life ;  but  their  humor,  tact, 
skill,  and  beauty,  and  even  the  reform  in  manners  and  in  taste 
they  achieved,  languish  before  the  robust  and  practical  truths 
advanced  by  De  Foe.  His  writings,  though  comparatively  neg- 
lected at  present,  from  the  actual  triumph  of  the  ideas  they  em- 
body, were  distinguished  then  by  a  quality  in  which  his  more 
brilliant  contemporaries  were  sadly  deficient,  —  earnestness :  his 
object  was  moral,  theirs  artistic;  he  sought  to  modify  opinion 
and  build  up  institutions,  they  to  refine  style  and  gratify  taste ; 
their  sphere  was  sentiment,  his  action ;  they  strove  with  art  to 
refine,  he  with  argument  to  invigorate  and  make  self-reliant  the 
elements  of  national  life  and  individual  character ;  he  dealt  con- 
scientiously with  principles,  they  daintily  with  forms. 

When  De  Foe  abandoned  controversy  for  fiction,  he  had  already 
achieved  a  long  career  of  authorship,  and  had  suftered  enough  to 
damp  the  energy  of  a  less  vigorous  mind.  But  he  entered  tliis 
*  new  and  promising  field  with  characteristic  spirit  and  industry. 
Encouraged  by  the  extraordinary  success  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe," 
he  published  a  series  of  tales  similar  in  design,  though  much  infe- 
rior in  novelty  and  effect.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  majority 
of  these  narratives  are  devoted  to  low  life,  and  as  De  Foe's  foi'te 
was  adventure,  and  not  characterization,  the  coarseness  of  some 
of  his  graphic  histories  is  only  redeemed  by  the  matter-of-fact, 


298  THE    WRITER    FOR    THE    PEOPLE. 

self-possessed,  and  authentic  style  with  which  he  "forges  the 
handwriting  of  Nature."  No  writer  ever  drew  more  clearly  the 
lines  that  divide  vice  from  virtue.  There  is  nothing  insidious  in 
his  pictures  of  human  frailty.  "  Roxana,"  "  Colonel  Jack," 
"  Moll  Flanders,"  and  other  narratives  of  unprincipled  vagabond- 
age, while  they  repel  the  discriminating  reader  of  the  present  day, 
are  yet  historically  worthy  of  attention,  as  being  the  genuine  pre- 
cursors of  the  modern  English  novel.  To  ignore  the  early  speci- 
mens of  any  class  of  writings,  would  be  as  unjust  to  literature 
historically  regarded,  as  for  the  painter,  in  his  admiration  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Raphael,  to  forget  Giotto  and  Perugino. 
'•Captain  Carleton"  and  "Memoirs  of  a  Cavalier"  are  the  germs 
of  the  historical  romance  of  our  day;  even  as  the  "Essay  on 
Projects"  maybe  regarded  as  the  rough  chart  whence  modern 
philanthropy  and  social  science  have  derived  much  of  their  orig- 
inal impulse.  Yet  De  Foe,  with  the  usual  perversity  of -authors, 
seems  to  have  valued  his  metrical  treatise,  called  Jure  Divbio^ 
now  quite  neglected,  above  his  influential  pamphlets  and  his  un- 
rivalled story.  He  wrote  in  the  spirit  of  Franklin  and  Cobbett ; 
his  very  lack  of  ideality,  his  self-reliance,  and  his  practical  mind, 
fitted  him  to  become  an  exemplar  in  that  literature  which  deals 
with  common  things  in  the  universal  heart.  When  Kean  re- 
turned from  his  great  experiment  at  Drury  Lane,  his  anxious 
wife  inquired  what  Lord  Essex  thought  of  the  performance.  The 
answer  of  the  triumphant  actor  was,  "The  pit  rose  to  me."  It 
was  this  popular  recognition  that  De  Foe  sought  and  won ;  and 
of  this  the  permanent  fame  of  Robinson  Crusoe  is  the  best  illus- 
tration. 

No  charge  of  plagiarism  was  ever  more  irrational  than  that 
which  his  enemies  strove  to  affix  to  the  author  of  this  world-wide 
favorite.  That  the  narrative  was  founded  on  reality  appears  from 
the  well-known  fact  that  Selkirk's  Adventures  were  published  in 
1712,  seven  years  before  Robinson  Crusoe.  This  work,  and  the 
paper  by  Steele  on  the  subject,  when  compared  with  the  story  of 
Be  Foe,  will  be  found  to  bear  a  relation  to  it  as  inadequate  to 
explain  the  conception,  as  one  of  the  Italian  tales,  upon  the  dra- 
matized version  of  which  Shakspeare  founded  his  immortal  plays, 
to  those  priceless  dramas.     Selkirk  was  cast  on  a  desert  island, 


DANIEL    DE     FOE.  299 

kindled  a  fire  by  rubbing  bits  of  wood  together,  diverted  himself 
by  dancing  with  the  goats  he  tamed,  made  a  bed  of  their  skins, 
built  two  huts,  wrought  a  needle  out  of  a  nail  and  a  knife-blade 
from  a  piece  of  iron  hoop,  fell  from  a  precipice,  and  learned  to 
run  swiftly  and  to  hunt  animals.  Such  were  the  material  hints 
thus  furnished.  In  regard  to  the  metaphysical,  Steele  remarks 
of  Selkirk,  that  ''  it  was  a  matter  of  great  curiosity  to  hear  him 
give  an  account  of  the  different  revolutions  of  his  own  mind  in 
that  Ions:  solitude."  With  our  knowledge  of  De  Foe's  antece- 
dents,  of  his  narrative  powers,  and  his  graphic,  plain,  and  lucid 
diction,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  how  such  meagre  suggestions  would 
become  expanded  under  his  pen  into  an  elaborate,  detailed,  and 
consistent  story,  alive  with  the  truths  of  nature  and  consciousness. 
His  habit  of  composition,  his  facility  in  the  use  of  the  vernacular 
tongue,  his  long  political  warfare,  which  deepened  thought  and 
quickened  perception,  his  social  isolation,  and  his  very  deficiency 
in  scholarship  and  ideality,  were  but  so  many  preparatives.  The 
alternation  of  the  seasons,  the  notches  on  the  calendar-post,  the 
visions  of  fever,  the  explorations,  the  domestic  economy  of  bower 
and  cave,  inventions  suggested  by  necessity,  periods  of  religious 
self-communion,  and  keeping  a  journal  of  reflections,  are  the  facts 
which,  given  out  in  Flemish  detail,  and  in  a  style  of  familiar  and 
homely  directness,  make  up  Robinson  Crusoe's  twenty-eight  years 
of  solitude.  It  has  been  remarked  that  the  only  essentially  poet- 
ical scene  is  the  discovery  of  the  footprint.  The  original  of  Fri- 
day was,  according  to  D' Israeli,  a  Mosquito  Indian  described  by 
Dampier.  What  a  striking  proof  of  the  universal  charm  of  truth 
to  nature  is  indicated  by  the  popularity  of  such  a  work  !  Minds 
as  diverse  and  as  highly  endowed  as  those  of  Rousseau,  Dr.  John- 
son, Lamb,  Scott,  and  our  own  Webster,  acknowledged  for  it  a 
life-long  partiality.  Cervantes  and  Bunyan  are  De  Foe's  only 
peers  in  the  common  heart.  He  has  been  justly  called  the  Mu- 
rillo  of  the  novelists.  Boccaccio's  warm  and  musical  style  is  not 
more  national  than  De  Foe's  stern  outline  and  colloquial  plain- 
ness. His  poetry  was  that  of  the  Bible,  which  Hazlitt  well  de- 
scribes as  that  of  solitude.  All  of  grandeur  that  he  develops  is 
that  of  simplicity  and  self-reliance  ;  and,  paradoxical  as  it  seems, 
the  great  charm  of  his  fiction  is  its  truth.     His  convictions  were 


300     THE  WRITER  FOR  THE  PEOPLE. 

grave,  his  observation  minute,  and  his  experience  of  life  singu- 
larly painful,  but  conscience  and  intelligence  were  profoundly 
active ;  and  to  these  causes  we  can  easily  trace  both  the  individu- 
ality and  the  attraction  of  his  genius. 

Robinson  Crusoe  is  a  thoroughly  English  romance.  It  has 
none  of  the  southern  glow  of  the  Italian  novelle.  Sentiment  is 
in  abeyance  to  sense  in  its  hero.  The  interest  is  derived  chiefly 
from  external  adventure,  and  not  from  impassioned  scenes ;  and 
the  amusing  and  melodramatic  elements,  so  conspicuous  in  French 
stories,  are  entirely  ignored.  It  has  the  severity,  the  strong  indi- 
viduality, of  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind.  The  chapter  descriptive  of 
domestic  life  in  the  household  of  a  pious  citizen  of  the  middle 
class,  is  a  most  characteristic  introduction ;  the  passion  for  sea-life 
is  a  national  trait ;  the  religious  feeling  that  struggles  in  the  wan- 
derer's breast,  at  the  outset,  with  his  own  perverse  desires,  is  also, 
both  in  its  form  and  expression,  singularly  true  to  the  character 
of  the  English  dissentera.  The  inventive  talent  which  Robinson 
exhibits  is  a  source  of  peculiar  interest  to  a  thrifty  and  commer- 
cial race;  his  self-dependent,  methodical,  and  industrious  spirit 
was  but  a  type  of  his  nation ;  his  recognition  of  conscience  and 
providence,  the  absence  of  imagmation,  and  the  multiplicity  of 
facts,  are  phases  of  the  story  in  strict  accordance  with  the  Eng- 
lish mind.  The  very  problem  of  the  book  —  that  of  a  human 
being  thrown  entirely  upon  his  own  resources  —  is  one  remarka- 
bly adapted  to  the  genius  of  an  Englishman,  and  it  is  worked  out 
with  equal  significance.  Solitude  has  been  made  the  basis  of 
novels  and  memoirs  in  many  notable  instances ;  but  how  diverse 
the  treatment  from  that  of  De  Foe  !  The  biography  of  Trenck, 
the  '-Prisons"  of  Pellico,  and  the  "Picciola"  of  De  Saintine, 
borrow  their  moral  interest  from  the  isolation  of  their  heroes ;  but 
it  is  affection  and  ftincy  that  lend  a  charm  to  such  narratives. 
Poets,  the  most  eloquent  of  modern  times,  have  sung  the  praises 
of  solitude ;  Byron,  Foscolo,  and  Chateaubriand,  have  set  it  forth 
as  the  sphere  of  imaginative  pleasure ;  Zimmerman  has  argued 
its  claims ;  St.  Pierre  and  Humboldt  have  indicated  how  much 
it  enhances  the  enjoyment  of  nature.  But  in  these  and  similar 
instances,  the  idiosyncrasy  of  the  writers,  and  not  human  nature 
in  general,  is  alive  to  the  experiment.     De  Foe  gives  a  practical 


DANIEL     DE     FOE.  301 

solution  to  the  idea.  He  describes  the  physical  resources  avail- 
able to  a  patient  and  active  hermit.  He  brings  man  into  direct 
contact  with  Nature,  and  shows  how  he,  by  his  single  arm, 
thought,  and  will,  can  subdue  her  to  his  use.  He  places  a  human 
soul  alone  with  God  and  the  universe,  and  records  its  solitary 
struggles,  its  remorse,  its  yearning  for  companionship,  its  thirsi 
for  truth,  and  its  resignation  to  its  Creator.  Robinson  is  no 
poet,  mystic,  or  man  of  science,  but  an  Englishman  of  average 
mind  and  ordinary  education ;  and  on  his  desert  island  he  never 
loses  his  nationality.  Fertile  in  expedients,  prone  to  domesticity, 
fond  of  a  long  ramble,  mindful  of  the  Sabbath,  provident,  sus- 
tained by  his  Bible  and  his  gun,  a  philosopher  by  nature,  a 
utilitarian  by  instinct,  accustomed  to  introspection,  serious  in  his 
views,  —  against  the  vast  blank  of  solitude,  his  figure  clad  in 
goat-skins  stands  in  bold  relief,  —  the  moral  ideal  and  exemplar 
of  his  nation  and  class. 

Writings  that  thus  survive  a  miscellaneous  group  will  be 
found  to  contain  a  vital  element  of  the  author's  nature  or 
experience.  They  triumph  over  the  oblivious  influence  of 
change  and  time,  because  created  "in  the  lusty  stealth  of 
nature ;  "  and  are  more  vigorous  by  virtue  of  this  spontaneous 
origin.  De  Foe's  life  was  a  moral  solitude.  If  he  knew  not 
the  discipline  of  an  uninhabited  island,  he  was  familiar  with  that 
deeper  isolation  which  the  tyranny  of  opinion  creates.  He  was 
separated  from  his  kind,  not  indeed  by  leagues  of  ocean,  but  by 
the  equally  inexorable  sea  of  faction.  Prejudice,  in  an  unchar- 
itable age,  divided  him  as  effectually  from  society  as  a  barrier  of 
nature.  Nor  in  his  case  did  the  sympathy  of  those  for  whom  he 
thouglit  and  suffered  relieve  the  grim  features  of  solitude.  He 
was  too  independent,  and  too  much  in  advance  of  his  time,  not  to 
be  essentially  apart  from  those  who  were  ostensibly  near  and 
around  him.  He  was  driven  into  the  intrench ments  of  conscious- 
ness. Like  all  bold  and  individual  thinkers,  he  was  often  alone. 
From  his  earliest  years  his  lot  was  cast  and  his  choice  made  with 
a  despised  minority ;  and  not  until  his  head  was  bleached  did  the 
party  and  the  class  with  which  he  acted  hold  the  balance  of 
power.  As  Bunyan  was  the  spiritual  prophet  of  the  people,  De 
Foe  was  their  practical  expositor.  He  espoused  their  cause 
26 


302     THE  WRITER  FOR  THE  PEOPLE. 

before  philanthropic  organizations  and  public  opinion  had  won 
respect  for  it.  Oberlin  had  then  regenerated  no  poor  village ; 
Penny  Magazines  were  undreamed  of;  Burns  had  not  set  to 
undying  music  the  cottager's  life ;  the  vulgar  were  divided 
by  an  immense  gulf  from  the  educated.  Heroic  then  Avas  it 
to  brood  over  the  dark  problems  of  civilization.  Literature 
was  the  privilege  and  the  ornament  of  the  few.  Pope  trans- 
lated the  Iliad,  and  celebrated  the  graces  of  Belinda;  Swift 
did  a  courtier's  taskwork ;  Addison,  with  scholarly  zest,  de- 
scribed his  Italian  journey ;  but  De  Foe  pleaded  for  the  rights 
of  Dissenters,  expounded  the  principles  of  trade,  and  wrote 
manuals  for  the  religious,  political,  and  domestic  guidance  of 
the  masses.  He  was  an  intellectual  pioneer,  the  herald  of 
utility  in  letters,  the  advocate  of  practical  truth.  Instead  of 
social  distinction  and  the  pleasures  of  taste,  he  aimed  at 
reform.  Ignored  by  the  elegant,  despised  by  the  gay,  perse- 
cuted by  those  in  authority,  he  sternly  rebuked  corruption, 
boldly  announced  principles,  and  incessantly  advocated  humanity. 
The  brutal  injustice  of  party  spirit  in  England  is  signally 
illustrated  in  the  life  of  her  most  characteristic  author.  The 
ferocity  of  her  baronial  era  seems  transferred  to  her  literary  and 
political  annals.  The  same  inhuman  and  relentless  cruelty, 
insensate  prejudice,  and  dogmatic  will,  reign  in  the  world  of 
opinion,  as  in  the  scenes  of  the  ring,  the  duel,  the  criminal  law, 
the  domestic  tyranny,  and  other  barbarisms  that  deform  her 
social  history.  Genius  enjoys  no  immunity  from  this  instinctive 
exercise  of  arbitrary  power.  The  robbers  of  Italy  spared 
Ariosto  when  they  discovered  that  their  captive  was  the  author 
of  the  Orlando ;  the  French  mob  that  besieged  the  Tuileries  and 
decapitated  the  king,  protected  from  mutilation  the  beautiful 
statues  that  adorned  the  palace-garden  ;  but  no  sentiment  checks 
the  rabid  pen  or  melts  the  bigoted  judge  that  sought,  in  De  Foe's 
age  and  country,  to  awe  or  vanquish  obnoxious  writers.  The 
terms  in  which  they  are  assailed  are  those  of  execration  or  con- 
tempt ;  all  sense  of  justice,  honor,  truth,  and  humanity,  is  repu- 
diated ;  and  the  victim  is  coolly  neglected,  or  heartlessly  crushed, 
without  an  emotion  of  pity  or  a  scruple  of  remorse.  Even  the 
comparatively  liberal  criticism  of  a  later  day  is  tinctured  with 


DANIEL     DE     FOE.  303 

this  savage  arrogance.  The  impertinent  sarcasm  with  which  the 
fashionable  reviews  treated  Keats  and  Wordsworth,  the  faint 
praise  with  which  Reynolds  kept  the  merits  of  Gainsborough 
in  the  shade,  the  fanatical  calumnies  heaped  upon  Shelley, 
the  coarse  ridicule  that  drove  Byron  into  satire,  and  the  im- 
prisonment of  Hunt  and  Montgomery,  attest  an  identical 
tyranny  of  opinion.  Happily  De  Foe  vindicated  and  endeared 
his  own  memory  by  the  legacy  he  bequeathed  in  his  unrivalled 
fiction.  But  it  serves  not  only  to  make  him  remembered 
with  gratitude ;  it  is  a  nucleus  for  the  indignation  and  sympathy 
of  subsequent  generations.  Think  of  that  inventive  mind,  that 
heart  overflowing  with  manly  emotion,  that  reason  ever  exer- 
cised for  the  honor  of  his  country  and  the  advancement  of  his 
race,  tortured,  darkened,  and  bafiled,  throughout  a  long  and 
heroic  life,  by  the  falsehood,  the  scorn,  and  the  cruelty,  of 
mankind.  Swift  denied  him  learning ;  Oldmixon  declared  that 
his  vocation  was  espionage ;  Prior  pronounced  his  pen  venal ; 
Pope  put  him  into  the  Dunciad ;  the  courts  of  London  doomed 
him  to  the  pillory  and  a  felon's  cell ;  one  writer  charged  him 
with  prefixing  a  De  to  his  name  to  escape  the  reputation  of  an 
English  origin;  another  insinuated  that  he  appropriated  Sel- 
kirk's papers,  and  stole  the  materials  of  his  famous  story ;  one 
day  he  is  advertised  as  an  absconding  debtor,  the  next  published 
as  the  author  of  a  vile  tract  that  he  never  saw ;  now  the  stu- 
pidity of  his  own  party  misinterprets  the  satirical  intent  of  a 
pamphlet,  which  is  essentially  promoting  their  cause ;  and  now 
the  Bill  of  Rights  is  openly  violated  by  the  ministers  of  justice, 
in  order  to  wreak  upon  him  their  vindictive  fiat.  And  all  this 
time  De  Foe  was  the  most  thorough  Englishman  and  writer  of 
his  day,  a  model  of  integrity,  and  as  consistent,  sincere,  and 
brave,  as  he  was  gifted. 


THE   ORNITHOLOGIST 

JOHN  JAMES  AUDUBON. 


A  PECULIAR  charm  invests  the  lives  of  naturalists.  The  path 
of  the  military  conqueror  is  blood-stained,  that  of  the  statesman 
involved  and  tortuous,  while  the  pale  legions  of  avarice  usually 
beset  the  goal  of  maritime  discovery,  and  associate  the  names  of 
its  heroes  with  scenes  of  anarchy  and  oppression ;  but  the  lover 
of  Nature,  who  goes  forth  to  examine  her  wonders,  or  copy 
her  graces,  is  impelled  by  a  noble  enthusiasm,  and  works  in 
the  spirit  both  of  love  and  wisdom.  We  cannot  read  of  the 
brave  wanderings  of  Michaux  in  search  of  his  sylvan  idols ;  of 
Hugh  Miller,  while  at  his  mason's  work,  reverently  deducing 
the  grandest  theories  of  creation  from  a  fossil  of  tlie  "  old  red 
sandstone ; "  or  of  Wilson,  made  an  ornithologist,  in  feeling  at 
least,  by  the  sight  of  a  red-headed  woodpecker  which  greeted  his 
eyes  on  landing  in  America,  without  a  warm  sympathy  with  the 
simple,  pure,  and  earnest  natures  of  men  thus  drawn  into  a  life- 
devotion  to  Nature,  by  admiration  of  her  laws,  and  sensibility  to 
her  beauty.  If  we  thoughtfully  follow  the  steps  and  analyze  the 
characters  of  such  men,  we  usually  find  them  a  most  attractive 
combination  of  the  child,  the  hero,  and  the  poet,  with,  too  often, 
a  shade  of  the  martyr.  An  inkling  of  the  naturalist  is,  indeed, 
characteristic  of  poets.  Cowper  loved  hares  ;  Gray,  gold-fish  ; 
Alfieri,  horses  ;  and  Sir  Walter  Scott,  dogs ;  but,  when  pursued 
as  a  special  vocation,  ornithology  seems  the  most  interesting 
department  of  natural  history. 


JOHN    J  AMES     A  UD  U  B  ON.  305 

Audubon's  career  began  and  was  prosecuted  with  an  artistic 
rather  than  a  scientific  enthusiasm.  His  father  appears  to  have 
been  an  intelligent  lover  of  nature,  and  took  pleasure  in  walking 
abroad  with  his  son  to  observe  her  wonders.  These  colloquies 
and  promenades  made  a  lasting  impression  upon  his  plastic  mind. 
It  is  evident  that  the  habits  and  appearance  of  animated  nature 
at  once  enlisted  his  sympathies ;  the  accidental  view  of  a  book  of 
illustrations  in  natural  history  excited  the  desire  of  imitation, 
and  he  began  in  a  rude  way  to  delineate  the  forms,  colors,  atti- 
tudes, and,  as  far  as  possible,  the  expression  of  the  creatures  he 
so  admired.  Chagrined,  but  never  wholly  discouraged,  at  the 
ill-success  of  his  early  attempts,  he  annually  executed  and 
destroyed  hundreds  of  pictures  and  drawings,  until  long  practice 
had  given  him  the  extraordinary  skill  which  renders  his  mature 
efforts  unequalled,  both  for  authenticity  and  beauty.  He  art- 
lessly confesses  that,  finding  it  impossible  to  possess  or  to  live 
with  the  birds  and  animals  which  inspired  his  youthful  love,  he 
became  ardently  desirous  to  make  perfect  representations  of  them ; 
and  in  this  feeling  we  trace  the  germ  of  his  subsequent  greatness. 
Thus  the  origin  of  Audubon's  world-renowned  achievements  was 
disinterested.  His  love  of  nature  was  not  philosophic,  like  that 
of  Wordsworth,  nor  scientific,  like  that  of  Humboldt,  nor  adven- 
turous, like  that  of  Boone ;  but  special  and  artistic,  —  circum- 
stances, rather  than  native  idiosyncrasy,  made  him  a  naturalist ; 
and  his  knowledge  was  by  no  means  so  extensive  in  this  regard 
as  that  of  others  less  known  to  fame.  But  few  tnen  have  indulged 
so  genuine  a  love  of  nature  for  her  own  sake,  and  found  such 
enjoyment  in  delineating  one  of  the  most  poetical  and  least 
explored  departments  of  her  boundless  kingdom.  To  the  last 
his  special  ability,  as  an  artistic  naturalist,  was  unapproached ; 
and,  while  one  of  his  sons  drew  the  outline,  and  another  painted 
the  landscape,  or  the  foreground,  it  was  his  faithful  hand  that, 
with  a  steel-pen,  made  the  hairy  coat  of  the  deer,  or,  with  a  fine 
pencil,  added  the  exquisite  plumage  to  the  sea-fowl's  breast.  For 
years  he  fondly  explored  woods,  prairies,  and  the  Atlantic  shores, 
and  drew  and  colored  birds  and  beasts,  without  an  idea  of  any 
benefit  other  than  the  immediate  gratification  thus,  derived.  It 
was  not  until  his  interview  with  Lucien  Bcmaparte  in  1824,  and 
26* 


306  THE     ORNITHOLOGIST. 

the  latter' s  unexpected  offer  to  ])urchase  his  drawings,  that  he 
conceived  the  project  of  giving  the  results  of  his  explorations 
to  the  world.  Although,  in  pursuance  of  this  intention,  he 
embarked  soon  after  for  Europe  with  characteristic  promptitude 
and  eager  hopes,  the  loneliness  of  his  position,  and  the  want  of 
means  and  influence,  depressed  him  on  landing ;  but  the  instant 
and  cordial  recognition  he  met  with  from  the  active  literary  and 
scientific  men  abroad  soon  confirmed  his  original  resolution. 
Roscoe,  Wilson,  Jefii-ey,  Brewster,  Herschel,  and  Humboldt, 
successfully  advocated  his  claims,  and  cheered  him  with  then* 
personal  friendship  ;  and,  under  such  favorable  auspices,  his  first 
contributions  to  ornithology  appeared  in  Edinburgh.  Indeed, 
notwithstanding  the  privations  and  difficulties  he  encountered,  an 
unusual  amount  of  sympathy  and  encouragement  fell  to  the  lot 
of  Audubon.  Compared  with  other  votaries  of  a  special  object 
purely  tasteful  and  scientific  in  its  nature,  he  had  little  reason  to 
complain.  Of  the  one  hundred  and  seventy  subscribers  of  a 
thousand  dollars  each  to  his  great  work,  eighty  were  his  own 
countrymen  ;  and  his  declining  years  were  passed  in  independence 
and  comfort  in  the  midst  of  an  aflfectionate  and  thriving  family, 
the  participants  of  his  taste.  His  elasticity  of  temperament,  also, 
was  not  less  a  distinction  than  a  blessing  ;  it  supported  his  weari- 
some and  lonely  wanderings  both  in  search  of  birds  in  the  forest 
and  of  encouragement  among  men  ;  and,  when  the  labor  of  years 
was  destroyed,  after  a  brief  interval  of  mental  anguish,  it  nerved 
him  to  renewed  labor,  so  that  in  three  years  his  portfolio  was 
again  filled. 

Born  the  same  year  that  independence  was  declared  by  the 
Americans,  his  father  an  admiral  in  the  French  navy,  and  his 
birthplace  Louisiana,  he  was  early  sent  to  France  for  his  educa- 
tion, where  he  received  lessons  in  drawing  from  David,  but  pined 
the  while  for  the  free  life  and  the  wild  forests  of  his  own  country. 
On  his  return,  his  father  gave  him  a  beautiful  plantation  on  the 
banks  of  the  Schuylkill,  and  he  married.  But  neither  agricul- 
tural interests  nor  domestic  ties  could  quell  the  love  of  nature  in 
his  breast ;  and  for  months  he  wandered  in  search  of  objects  for 
his  pencil,  unsustained  by  any  human  being  except  his  wife,  who 
seems  to  have  realized  from  the  first  the  tendency  and  promise  of 


JOHN     JAMES     AUDUBON.  807 

his  mind.  At  length,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  opportunities  he 
craved,  and  at  the  same  time  have  the  society  of  his  family, 
Audubon  determined  to  emigrate,  and  selected  the  village  of  Hen- 
derson, in  Kentucky,  for  his  new  home.  In  the  autumn  of  1810 
he  floated  down  the  Ohio,  in  an  open  skiff,  with  his  wife,  child, 
and  two  negroes,  his  mattress,  viands,  and  rifle,  happy  in  the 
prospect  of  nearer  and  more  undisturbed  intercourse  with  nature, 
and  intensely  enjoying  the  pomp  of  the  autumnal  woods,  the  haze 
of  the  Indian  summer,  and  the  wildness  and  solitude  around  him. 
The  locality  chosen  proved  adequate  to  liis  aims ;  day  after  day, 
with  his  dog,  gun,  and  box  of  pencils  and  colors,  he  made  excur- 
sions, now  shooting  down  a  fresh  subject,  now  delineating  its  hues 
and  form  ;  one  moment  peering  into  a  nest,  and  at  another  scaling 
a  cliff,  for  hours  watching  the  conduct  of  a  pair  of  birds,  as,  uncon- 
scious that  their  doings  were  to  be  set  in  a  note-book,  they  con- 
structed a  graceful  nest,  fed  their  young,  or  trilled  a  spontaneous 
melody.  Over  streams,  through  tangled  brushwood,  amid  swamps, 
and  in  stony  ravines,  beneath  tempest,  sunshine,  and  starlight, 
the  indefatigable  wanderer  thus  lived ;  the  wild  beast,  the  treach- 
erous Indian,  the  gentle  moon,  and  the  lowly  wild-flower,  sole 
witnesses  of  his  curious  labors. 

Audubon  returned  from  Europe  to  prosecute  his  ornithological 
researches  with  fresh  zest  and  assiduity ;  and  his  first  expedition 
was  to  the  coast  of  Florida,  where  he  made  rich  additions  to  his 
portfolio  among  the  sea-fowl  of  that  region.  He  afterwards  suc- 
cessfully explored  Maine,  the  British  Provinces,  and  the  ice-clad 
and  desolate  shores  of  Labrador.  The  most  remarkable  and  hap- 
piest era  of  his  life  was,  doubtless,  that  employed  in  collecting 
the  materials,  executing  the  pictures,  and  obtaining  the  sub- 
scribers to  his  "Birds  of  America."  His  wanderings  previously 
have  the  interest  of  adventure,  and  the  charm  derived  from  the 
indulgence  of  a  passionate  love  of  nature ;  and  his  subsequent 
excursions,  and  artistic  labors,  in  behalf  of  the  work  on  the 
"  Quadrupeds  of  America,"  begun  in  1842,  afford  pleasing  evi- 
dence of  his  enduring  taste  and  noble  perseverance.  But  the 
period  included  by  his  ornithological  enterprise  is  more  charac- 
teristic and  satisfactory.  He  had  a  great  end  in  view,  and  the 
wildest  forest  and  most  unfrequented  shores,   the  highest  and 


808    ^  THE    ORNITHOLOGIST. 

most  cultivated  sphere  of  society,  and  the  most  patient  and  deli- 
cate limning,  were  the  means  of  its  realization ;  and  it  is  when 
contemplating  him  in  this  threefold  relation  that  we  learn  to  ap- 
preciate the  mingled  hardihood,  enthusiasm,  firmness,  and  dignity, 
so  remarkably  united  in  his  character.  In  the  woods,  a  genial 
companion,  a  single-hearted,  kind,  and  generous  friend,  as  well 
as  a  childlike  enthusiast  and  manly  sportsman ;  he  stood  before 
the  council  of  an  institution  with  his  first  delineation, —  the  bald- 
headed  eagle,  —  or  opened  his  portfolio  to  the  inspection  of  an  Eng- 
lish nobleman  in  his  lordly  castle,  with  quiet  self-possession,  an 
independent  air,  and  without  exhibiting  the  least  solicitude  either 
for  patronage  or  approbation.  Arriving  at  a  frontier  village, 
after  a  tramp  of  months  in  the  wilderness,  his  long  beard,  tattered 
leather  dress,  and  keen  eye,  made  him  an  object  of  idle  wonder 
or  impertinent  gossip ;  but  none  imagined  that  this  grotesque 
hunter-artist  enjoyed  the  honors  of  all  the  learned  societies  of 
Europe.  His  exultation  at  the  discovery  of  a  new  species,  and 
his  satisfaction  at  the  correct  finish  and  elegant  verisimilitude 
of  a  specimen,  amply  recompensed  him  for  days  of  exposure  or 
ill  success.  On  his  journey  from  the  South,  he  kept  pace  with 
the  migration  of  the  birds ;  and  he  proclaimed  the  Washington 
sea-eagle  to  his  country  and  the  scientific  world  with  the  pride 
and  delight  of  a  conqueror. 

His  passion  for  rambling  caused  Audubon  to  fail  in  several 
business  enterprises  he  undertook ;  and  at  one  period  he  applied 
to  Sully  for  instruction  in  portrait-painting,  but  soon  abandoned 
the  idea.  So  faulty  did  Dawson,  the  engraver  originally  em- 
ployed by  the  Prince  of  Musignano  to  illustrate  his  ornithology, 
consider  the  early  specimens  of  Audubon's  skill  as  a  draftsman, 
that  he  refused  to  execute  them,  and  appeared  to  consider  the  pig- 
ments invented  by  the  woodland  artist  as  the  most  remarkable 
feature  they  presented.  Although  thus  discouraged  on  every 
hand,  we  can  readily  believe  his  declaration,  that  he  left  America 
with  profound  regret,  although  his  career  abroad  affords  yet 
another  striking  evidence  of  that  memorable  and  holy  saying, 
"that  a  prophet  is  not  without  honor  save  in  his  own  country." 
It  is  natural  that  a  man  who  succeeded  by  virtue  of  toil  and  for- 
titude should  repudiate  the  commonly  received  faith  in  mere 


JOHN    JAMES     AUDUBON.  309 

genius ;  and  we  are  not  surprised  that  his  settled  view  of  the 
philosophy  of  life  was  patient  self-reliance,  and  meditation  on 
facts  derived  from  personal  observation,  with  unremitted  habits 
of  laboV.  To  these  resources  he  owed  his  own  renown  and 
achievements ;  and  his  high-arched  brow,  dark-gray  eye,  and 
vivacious  temperament,  marked  him  as  fitted  by  nature  to  excel  in 
action  as  well  as  thought  —  a  destiny  which  his  pursuits  singu- 
larly realized.  There  was  something  bird-like  in  the  very  physi- 
ognomy of  Audubon,  in  the  shape  and  keenness  of  his  eye,  the 
aquiline  form  of  the  nose,  and  a  certain  piercing  and  vivid  expres- 
sion when  animated.  He  was  thoroughly  himself  only  amid  the 
freedom  and  exuberance  of  nature ;  the  breath  of  the  woods  exhil 
arated  and  inspired  him ;  he  was  more  at  ease  under  a  canopy  of 
boughs  than  beneath  gilded  cornices,  and  felt  a  necessity  to  be 
within  sight  either  of  the  horizon  or  the  sea.  Indeed,  so  prevail- 
ing was  this  appetite  for  nature,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  that  from 
the  moment  the  idea  of  his  last-projected  expedition  was  aban- 
doned,—  in  accordance  with  the  urgent  remonstrances  of  his  fam- 
ily, mindful  of  his  advanced  age, —  he  began  to  droop,  and  the 
force  and  concentration  of  his  intellect  visibly  declined.  Both 
his  success  and  his  misfortunes,  therefore,  proved  the  wisdom  of 
Richter's  advice,  to  steadfastly  and  confidently  follow  the  perma- 
nent instincts  of  character,  however  they  may  seem  opposed  to 
immediate  interest. 

The  style  of  Audubon  reflects  his  character  with  unusual  em- 
phasis and  truth.  He  was  one  of  that  class  of  men  who  united 
intellectual  and  physical  activity  in  their  natures  so  equally,  that 
while  their  very  temperament  forbids  them  to  be  exclusively  stu- 
dents, their  intelligence  demands  a  constant  accession  of  new 
ideas.  Professor  Wilson  and  Baron  Humboldt  belong  to  the 
same  species.  No  one  can  glance  over  Audubon's  Biography  of 
Birds  without  being  struck  with  the  unusual  animation  and  real- 
ity of  the  style.  He  writes  with  an  ease  and  enthusiasm  that 
makes  portions  of  his  work  quite  as  entertaining  and  far  more 
suggestive  than  a  felicitous  novel.  Instead  of  a  formal  nomen- 
clature or  pedantic  description,  he  digresses  continually  from  the 
technical  details  which  are  requisite  to  the  scientific  value  of  his 
treatise,  to  charming  episodes  of  personal  adventure,  sketches  of 


310  THE    ORNITHOLOGIST. 

local  scenery  and  habits,  and  curious  anecdotes  illustrative  of  nat- 
ural history  or  human  character.  The  titles  of  these  incidental 
chapters  adequately  suggest  their  aim  and  interest,  such  as  "Hos- 
pitality in  the  Woods,"  "Force  of  the  Waters,"  "The  Squatters 
of  Labrador,"  "Wreckers  of  Florida,"  "A  Maple  Sugar  Camp," 
"  A  Ball  in  Newfoundland,"  "  Breaking  Up  of  the  Sea,"  "  Pit- 
ting of  Wolves,"  "  Long  Calm  at  Sea,"  "A  Kentucky  Barbecue," 
etc.  We  are  thus  genially  admitted  to  the  knowledge  of  much 
that  is  characteristic  and  interesting,  by  spirited  and  graceful 
narratives.  His  artist's  eye  and  his  sportsman's  zest  give  liveli- 
ness and  a  picturesque  grace  to  the  best  of  these  interludes ;  they 
relieve  the  monotony  of  mere  description,  and  also  impart  an  indi- 
viduality to  the  entire  work,  by  associating  the  positive  informa- 
tion it  conveys  with  the  fortunes  and  feelings  of  the  author.  His 
habit  of  naming  newly-discovered  birds  after  his  friends  is  another 
pleasing  feature.  Thus  genially  is  our  view  of  nature  enlarged, 
the  attractiveness  of  romance  given  to  a  department  of  natural 
history,  and  one  part  of  the  world  made  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  feathered  tribes  of  another.  We  need  not  enlarge  upon  the 
amenities  resulting  from  pursuits  of  this  kind,  and  their  encour- 
agement by  individuals  of  taste  and  wealth,  —  of  the  innocent  and 
available  gratification  thus  extensively  yielded,  or  of  the  more 
liberal  and  pleasing  views  resulting  therefrom.  In  a  literary 
point  of  view,  the  style  of  Audubon,  notwithstanding  an  almost 
unavoidable  vein  of  egotism,  in  its  clearness,  colloquial  facility, 
and  infectious  enthusiasm,  proves  how  much  more  effectively  inti- 
macy with  nature  develops  even  the  power  of  expression  than 
conformity  to  rules ;  and  vindicates  completeness  of  life,  animal 
and  mental,  as  essential  to  true  manhood  even  in  literature. 

This,  in  our  view,  is  one  of  the  most  important  lessons  derived 
from  such  a  career  as  that  of  Audubon  philosophically  considered. 
There  is  a  cant  of  spiritualism,  at  the  present  day,  which  repudi- 
ates the  vital  relation  of  genius  to  material  laws.  In  the  view  of 
this  shallow  philosophy,  to  trace  intellectual  results  in  any  degree 
to  physical  causes  is  derogating  from  the  essential  beauty  of 
mind.  The  class  of  persons  who  afifect  this  extreme  devotion  to 
ethereal  systems,  aim  to  sever  body  and  soul  while  mutually  alive, 
contemn  physiology  in  their  analysis  of  character,  and  recognize 


JOHN     JAMES     AUDUBON.  311 

only  the  abstract  in  mental  phenomena.  This  mode  of  reasoning 
is  founded  not  less  in  irreverence  than  error.  The  most  truly 
beautiful  and  significant  phases  of  intellect,  fancy,  moral  senti- 
ment, and  all  that  is  deemed  spiritual  in  man,  is  born  of  its  com- 
bination -with  the  human.  Indeed,  the  grand  characteristic  of 
life,  considered  in  a  metaphysical  light,  is  that  it  is  a  condition 
which  brings  together  and  gives  scope  for  the  action  and  rciiction 
of  material  influences  on  spiritual  genius.  The  end  is  develop- 
ment, growth,  and  modification.  As  the  rarest  fruit  owes  its 
flavor  and  hues  to  qualities  imbibed  from  earth  and  air,  from  rain 
and  sunshine,  so  what  is  called  the  soul  is  the  product  of  the 
thinking  and  sensitive  principle  in  our  nature,  warmed,  enriched, 
and  quickened  by  the  agency  of  an  animal  organism, —  the  chan- 
nel of  nature, — by  sensation,  physical  development,  appetites  and 
sensations,  as  well  as  ideas. 

An  author  differs  from  other  men  only  by  the  gift  and  habit  of 
expression.  This  faculty  (to  which,  for  the  ordinary  purpose  of 
convenience  and  pleasure,  speech  is  only  requisite)  through  genial 
cultivation  redoubles  its  force,  meaning,  and  beauty,  and  is  capa- 
ble of  affording  a  kind  of  permanent  utterance  to  what  is  most 
dear  and  important  to  man.  It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  the 
more  thoroughly  an  author's  nature  embraces  the  traits  peculiar 
to  manhood,  the  more  eflSciently  and  satisfactorily  will  his  vocation 
be  fulfilled.  Hence  the  universal  recognition  of  Shakspeare's 
supremacy  in  authorship :  it  is  because  his  range  of  expression 
included  more  of  what  is  within  and  around  life  —  more,  in  a 
word,  of  humanity  —  than  any  other  single  expositor.  In  general, 
authorship  is  partial,  temporary,  and  its  force  lies  in  a  special 
form.  Writers  devoted  to  abstract  tnith,  like  Kant  and  Jonathan 
Edwards,  are  not  to  be  included  in  the  proposition,  as  their  appeal 
is  not  to  the  sympathies,  but  to  the  pure  intelligence  of  the  race. 
But  the  authors  who  really  affect  the  mass,  and  represent  vividly 
the  spirit  of  their  age,  are  not  less  eminent  for  genuine  human 
qualities,  for  prevailing  traits  of  temperament,  appetite,  and 
sensibility,  than  for  superior  reflective  and  imaginative  gifts.  It 
is,  indeed,  essential  that  they  should  possess  the  former  in  a  high 
degree  in  order  effectively  to  exhibit  the  latter.  This  is  con- 
stantly illustrated  in  literature  and  art.     With  a  fancy  which 


^12  THE    ORNITHOLOGIST. 

scarcely  approached  the  idealism  of  Shellej,  Burns  thrilled  the 
heart  of  his  kind  bj  virtue  of  an  organization  that  humanized  his 
genius.  Landor  is  equipped  with  the  lore  of  antiquity,  and  all 
the  graces  of  classical  diction,  to  advocate  his  liberal  opinions :  yet, 
while  his  elegant  volumes  adorn  the  libraries  of  scholars  and  men 
of  taste,  Dickens,  by  virtue  of  what  may  be  called  a  more  genial 
instinct,  pleads  for  the  oppressed  in  a  million  hearts.  Jenny 
Lind  sings  many  cavatinas  with  more  precision  and  artistic  power 
than  Grisi ;  but  her  voice,  uncharged  with  the  sensuous  life, 
whose  vibration  is  inevitably  sympathetic,  does  not  so  seize  upon 
the  nerves  or  quicken  the  blood.  The  element  of  sensation,  as 
related  to  sound,  form,  and  ideas,  is  essential  to  popular  litera- 
ture. It  is  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  this  department  of  art 
that  it  depends  upon  sympathy,  which  can  only  be  awakened  in 
large  circles  by  addressing  the  whole  nature,  by  winning  the 
senses  as  well  as  the  mind,  stirring  the  heart  not  less  than  elicit- 
ing the  judgment,  and,  in  a  word,  making  itself  felt  in  that  uni- 
versal human  consciousness  which,  to  distinguish  it  alike  from 
mere  intellect  or  mere  feeling,  we  call  the  soul. 

The  author  who  expects  reception  there  must  write  not  only 
with  his  intelligence,  his  imagination,  and  his  will,  but  with  his 
temperament  and  his  sensitive  organism ;  he  must,  in  a  degree, 
fuse  perception  and  sensation,  nervous  energy  and  moral  feeling, 
physical  emotion  and  aerial  ftincy ;  and  then,  at  some  point,  he 
will  be  sure  to  touch  the  sympathy  of  others ;  not  the  scholar 
only,  but  the  peasant.  Accordingly,  we  always  find  in  the  habits 
and  idiosyncrasies  of  popular  authors  a  clue  to  their  success. 
There  is  an  analogy  between  their  constitution  and  their  writing. 
The  tone  of  the  latter  is  born  of  the  man,  and  forms  his  personal 
distinction  as  an  author.  Reasoning,  rhetoric,  and  descriptive 
limning,  considered  as  processes,  do  not  diflfer  according  to  tlie 
writer,  —  they  only  vary  in  a  certain  spirit,  manner,  or,  more 
properly,  tone  ;  and  when  we  analyze  this,  we  shall  find  it  given 
out  by  the  individual  character,  by  the  particular  union  of  moral 
and  physical  qualities  that  make  up  the  identity  of  the  author, 
iuad.  not  originating  in  a  pure  abstract  and  spiritual  emanation. 
Far  from  diminishing,  this  but  enhances  the  interest  of  author- 
ghip  ;  it  renders  it  a  great  social  fact,  and  a  legitimate  branch  of 


JOHN    JAMES    AUDUBON.  313 

human  economy.  It  teaches  us  to  regard  authors  as  we  regard 
men,  bj  the  light  of  character ;  and  from  their  human  to  deduce 
their  literary  peculiarities  instead  of  the  reverse,  which  is  the 
method  of  superficial  criticism. 

The  popular  basis  of  Audubon's  renown,  as  well  as  the  indi- 
viduality of  his  taste  as  a  naturalist,  rests  upon  artistic  merit. 
We  have  alluded  to  the  instinctive  desire  he  so  early  manifested 
not  only  to  observe,  but  to  possess  the  beautiful  denizens  of  the 
forest  and  the  meadow ;  and  he  candidly  acknowledges  that  he  was 
induced  to  take  their  portraits  to  console  himself  for  not  possess- 
ing the  originals.  Rude  as  were  his  first  attempts  to  delineate 
birds,  few  portrait-painters  work  in  a  more  disinterested  spirit. 
The  motive  was  neither  gain,  nor  hope  of  distinction,  nor  even 
scientific  enthusiasm ;  for  when  Wilson  called  at  his  place  of  busi- 
ness, these  primitive  sketches  were  produced  as  the  results  of 
leisure,  and  the  work  of  an  unskilled  amateur.  It  is  evident, 
therefore,  that  a  genuine  love  of  the  occupation,  and  a  desire  to 
have  authentic  memorials  of  these  objects  of  his  enthusiastic  admi- 
ration, was  the  original  cause  of  his  labors  with  crayon  and  pig- 
ments ;  circumstances,  an  ardent  temperament,  and  an  earnest 
will,  gradually  developed  this  spontaneous  tendency  into  a  mas- 
terly artistic  faculty ;  he  sketched,  painted,  and  destroyed,  copied, 
retouched,  and  improved,  until  he  succeeded  in  representing  per- 
fectly the  forms,  colors,  attitudes,  and  expression,  of  the  feath- 
ered tribe.  The  life-size  of  these  delineations,  their  wonderful 
accuracy,  the  beauty  of  their  hues,  and  the  animation  of  their 
aspect,  instantly  secured  for  the  backwoodsman-artist  universal 
praise  ;  but  a  minute  inspection  revealed  yet  higher  claims ;  each 
plate,  in  fact,  is  an  epitome  of  the  natural  history  of  the  species 
depicted ;  male  and  female,  young  and  'adult,  are  grouped 
together,  their  plumage  at  different  seasons,  the  vegetation  they 
prefer,  the  soil,  the  food,  sometimes  the  habits,  and  often  the  prey, 
of  each  bird,  are  thus  indicated ;  and  we  take  in  at  a  glance  not 
only  the  figure,  but  the  peculiarities  of  the  genus.  This  com- 
pleteness of  illustration,  the  result  of  vast  study,  united  as  it  is 
with  grace  and  brilliancy  of  execution,  led  the  great  naturalist  of 
France  to  declare  that  America  had  achieved  a  work  unequalled 
in  Europe.  No  lover  of  nature,  whether  poet  or  savan,  can 
27 


814  THE    ORNITHOLOGIST. 

contemplate  these  exquisite  and  vivid  pictures  in  a  foreign  coun- 
try, without  delight  and  gratitude  ;  for,  without  any  exertion  on 
his  part,  they  introduce  him  to  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
varied  and  numerous  birds  which  haunt  the  woods,  sky.  and 
waters,  between  Labrador  and  Florida,  in  hue,  outline,  and  action, 
as  vivid  and  true  as  those  of  nature ;  and  their  intrinsic  value  as 
memorials  is  enhanced  by  the  consideration  that  a  rapid  disap- 
pearance of  whole  species  of  birds  has  been  observed  to  attend  the 
progress  of  civilization  on  this  continent. 


THE   SENTIMENTALIST. 

LAURENCE   STERNE. 


There  is  a  peculiar  incongruity  in  the  associations  which 
the  name  of  Laurence  Sterne  excites.  He  represents  several 
very  distinct  and  inharmonious  phases  of  character.  There  are 
the  Prebendary  of  York,  and  the  Vicar  of  Sutton  in  the  Forest 
and  of  Stillington  —  most  respectable  designations ;  there  is 
mirthful,  plaintive,  quaint  Yorick,  with  his  fancy  and  humor,, 
his  amorous  trifling,  his  rollicking  table-talk,  and  his  vagrant 
sentimentalism  ;  then  the  affectionate  father  of  Lydia  Sterne,  a 
character  worthy  of  esteem  and  love ;  again  he  appears  as  a  fash- 
ionable preacher,  a  standard  author,  and  a  ''  loose  fellow  about 
town,"  whom  it  is  somewhat  disreputable  to  praise,  and  even 
about  whose  literary  merits  modesty  is  often  instinctively  silent  ; 
publishing  alternately  a  volume  of  Tristram  Shandy  and  a 
volume  of  sermons — the  man  of  the  world  and  the  priest  making 
a  simultaneous  appeal  to  the  reading  public.  Yet,  withal,  those 
of  us  who,  in  some  old  sunny,  rural  home,  early  became  familiar 
with  that  long  array  of  little  volumes,  in  obsolete  type,  and  found 
them  here  and  there  exhaling  the  mellow  breath  of  a  gentle, 
pensive  mood,  embodied  in  most  apt  and  graceful  phraseology, 
must  confess  a  kindliness  for  the  author,  however  we  may  con- 
demn his  freedom  of  speech,  and  resent  his  abuse  of  the  canons 
of  taste  and  the  integrity  of  feeling. 

Inclined  as  English  writers  are  to  literary  biography,  and 
constant  as  has  been  the  revival  of  memorials  and  critiques  of 


816  THE    SENTIMENTALIST. 

their  standard  authors,  since  the  establishment  of  the  leading 
reviews,  Sterne  has  proved  an  exception.  That  he  was  born  at 
Clonmel,  in  Ireland,  November  24,  1713,  and  died  in  London, 
March  18,  1768  ;  that  he  preached,  dined  out,  visited  the  conti- 
nent, published  books,  left  debts,  one  daughter,  and  the  fame  of 
rare  gifts  and  doubtful  conduct,  is  the  sum  of  what  we  know  of 
the  man,  except  from  his  writings.  Time  has  added  little  to  the 
sparse  details  recorded  in  his  own  sketch ;  and  the  scattered  and 
meagre  notices  of  his  career  have  not  been  gathered  and  arranged 
with  the  reverential  and  loving  care  bestowed  on  whatever  throws 
light  upon  such  intellectual  benefactors  as  Milton  and  Goldsmith. 
The  feeling  which  prompts  such  tributary  labor  has  been  chilled, 
in  this  instance,  by  a  consciousness  that  Sterne  so  violated  the 
proprieties  of  life  and  the  harmonics  of  character,  as  to  afford  a 
subject  too  perverse  for  hearty  eulogium,  and  too  imperfect  for 
entire  sympathy.  The  parish  register  of  Sutton  contains  data,  in 
his  handwriting,  from  which  we  learn  such  unimportant  items,  as 
that  at  one  time  he  planted  an  orchard,  and  at  another  the  par- 
sonage was  destroyed  by  iBre.  In  a  work  entitled  the  Memoires 
(Tvn  Voyageur  qui  se  repose^  by  M.  Dutens  (a  refugee  Abbe, 
one  of  Sydney  Smith's  visitors  during  his  first  sojourn  in  Lon- 
don), that  appeared  in  London  in  1806,  occurs  the  following 
anecdote,  which  affords  a  vivid  idea  of  his  social  peculiarities : 

"  Nous  etions  au  temps  de  I'anniversaire  du  Roi  d'Angleterre. 
Milord  Tavistock  in  vita  la  peu  d'Anglois  qui  etoient  i  Paris  i 
diner  avec  lui,  pour  le  celebrer.  Je  fus  de  la  partie,  ou  je  ne 
trouvai  de  ma  connoissance  que  ceux  avec  que  j'etois  venu  a  Pa- 
ris. Je  fus  assis  entre  Milord  Berkeley  et  le  fiimeux  Sterne, 
auteur  de  Tristram  Shandy,  regarde  comme  la  Rabelais  de  I'An- 
gleterre.  On  fut  fort  gai  pendant  le  diner  et  Ton  but  a  TAnglaise 
et  selon  le  jour.  La  conversation  vint  a  tomber  sur  Turin,  ou 
plusieurs  de  la  compagnie  alloient;  sur  quoi  M.  Sterne  m'ad- 
dressant  la  parole,  demande  si  j'y  connoissois  Monsieur  Dutens; 
je  lui  dis  qu'oui  et  meme  fort  intimement.  Tout  la  compagnie 
ge  prit  ^  rire ;  et  Sterne,  qui  ne  me  croyoit  si  pres  de  lui,  s'im- 
agina  ce  Monsieur  D.  devoit  etre  un  homme  assez  bizarre,  puisque 
son  nom  seul  faisoit  rire  ceux  qui  I'entendoient.     '  N'est  ce  pas 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  317 

un  homme  singulier?'  ajouta  il  tout  de  suite;  '  Oui,'  repris-je, 
'un  original.'  " 

Upon  this  hint,  Sterne  drew  an  imaginary,  and  by  no  means 
flattering,  portrait  of  his  neighbor,  and  related  many  amusing 
stories  about  him,  unconscious,  the  while,  that  these  inventions 
were  heard  by  their  good-natured  subject.  He  did  not  discover 
the  identity  of  his  auditor  with  M.  Dutens  until  the  company 
separated,  when  he  made  ample  apologies,  which  were  graciously 
accepted.  All  wits  have  a  mode  of  their  own.  Addison,  we  are 
told  by  Swift,  would  flatter  the  opinions  of  a  man  of  extreme 
views  on  any  subject,  until  he  betrayed  him  into  absurdity;  Lamb 
had  a  way  of  startling  literal  people  by  humorous  sallies ;  Hook 
was  a  genius  in  practical  jokes ;  and  Sterne,  it  appears,  used  to 
draw  fancy  portraits  of  real  characters,  to  divert  his  boon  com- 
panions. Had  his  accidental  victim,  in  the  instance  related,  been 
other  tlian  an  urbane  Frenchman,  who  could  make  allowance  for 
a  spirUuelle  invention,  even  though  it  somewhat  compromised  his 
own  dignity,  the  "Rabelais  d'Angleterre"  might  have  been 
forced  to  protect  himself  from  a  duel  under  the  very  cloth  whose 
immunities  he  so  little  deserved.  A  similar  instance  is  recorded 
by  Dr.  Hill,  who  says  that  at  a  dinner-party  the  professional  talk 
of  a  pedantic  physician  wearied  the  company  and  annoyed  the 
host,  when  '-good-humored  Yorick  fell  into  the  cant  and  jargon 
of  physic,  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  Radcliflb's  travellers,"  and 
told  such  a  ridiculous  story  of  curing  himself  of  an  adhesion  of 
the  lungs  by  leaping  fences,  as  restored  the  guests  to  mirthful- 
ness. 

The  alleged  insensibility  of  Sterne,  the  man,  may  be  ascribed, 
in  part,  to  his  extreme  frankness.  He  calls  discretion  '-an  un- 
dcrstrapping  virtue,"  and  seems  to  have  been  singularly  deficient 
in  caution  and  reserve.  He  gave  expression  to  the  alternations 
of  his  mood  and  feelings  with  a  reckless  disregard  to  the  effect  of 
such  inconsistency.  At  the  University,  we  are  told,  he  "amused 
himself  by  puzzling  the  tutors,"  and  "left  Cambridge  with  the 
character  of  an  odd  man,  who  had  no  harm  in  him,  and  had  parts 
if  he  would  use  them."  Thence  he  went  to  "the  lap  of  the 
Church  in  a  small  village  in  Yorkshire,"  and,  "as  he  advanced 
in  literary  fame,  left  his  livings  to  the  care  of  his  curates,"  and 
27=^ 


318  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

preferred  ''  luxurious  living  with   the   great."     The   following 
charitable  epitaph  well  describes  such  a  man : 

"  Wit,  humor,  genius,  hadst  thou,  all  agree  ; 
One  grain  of  wisdom  had  been  worth  the  three." 

His  patient  courtship  shows  that  he  was  truly  in  love  with 
his  wife.  Their  marriage,  in  the  face  of  inauspicious  circum- 
stanceSj  proves  that  thej  were  both  in  earnest ;  and  his  frank 
acknowledgment,  a  year  after,  that  he  was  tired  of  his  conjugal 
partner,  argues  no  uncommon  experience,  but  a  rare  and  unjus- 
tifiable candor.  His  letters  to  Mrs.  Draper,  however  wrong  in 
the  social  code,  and  unprincipled  in  a  married  divine,  were  un- 
doubtedly sincere.  His  first  efficient  stroke  as  a  lay  writer 
consisted  of  a  satire  to  oust  the  monopolist  of  a  situation  which 
one  of  his  friends  desired,  and  so  successful  was  it  that  the 
incumbent  offered  to  resign  if  the  publication  was  suppressed. 
His  parental  aifection  has  never  been  questioned;  no  one  can 
doubt  that  his  heart  was  devoted  to,  and  engrossed  with,  his 
daughter  Lydia.  Inconstancy  is  one  thing,  insincerity  quite 
another.  The  critics  of  Sterne  invariably  confound  the  two; 
and,  because  he  was  so  unreliable  in  his  attachments,  and  not 
proof  against  a  succession  of  objects,  they  endeavor  to  discredit 
his  pathos  as  artificial.  As  well  might  we  seek  to  invalidate 
Bacon's  philosophy  because  it  failed  to  elevate  him  above  syco- 
phancy, or  Scott's  romantic  genius  in  view  of  his  material 
ambition,  or  Byron's  love  of  nature  on  account  of  his  dissi- 
pation. 

Science,  of  late  years,  has  thrown  new  light  on  the  apparent 
contradictions  of  human  nature,  by  investigating  the  laws  of 
temperament,  and  the  relation  of  the  nervous  system  to  intel- 
lectual development.  A  whole  category  of  phenomena  has  been 
recognized  by  acute  observation  directed  to  susceptible  organiza- 
tions ;  and  whoever  is  thus  prepared  will  find  no  difficulty  in 
explaining  the  incongruities  so  obvious  between  Sterne  the  man 
and  Sterne  the  author.  His  will  and  intelligence  were  contin- 
ually modified  by  physical  causes.  He  lacked  hardihood,  and  was 
peculiarly  alive  to  magnetic  agencies.  Hence  his  vagaries,  his 
tender  moods  reacting  to  selfish  calculation,  and  the  theory  of 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  319 

life  which  he  was  so  fond  of  elaborating  from  sensation  and  fancy. 
"  Sweet  pliability  of  man's  spirit,"  he  exclaims,  "  that  can  at 
once  surrender  itself  to  illusions  which  cheat  expectation  and 
sorrow  of  their  weary  moments  !  "  "I  can  safely  say.  that,  for 
myself,  I  was  never  able  to  conquer  one  single  bad  sensation  in 
my  heart  so  decisively,  as  by  beating  up,  as  ftist  as  I  could,  for 
some  kindly  and  gentle  sensation  to  fight  it  upon  its  own  ground." 
"  A  man  who  has  not  a  sort  of  affection  for  the  whole  sex  is 
incapable  of  ever  loving  a  single  one  as  he  ought."  "  I  know 
not  how  it  is,  but  /  am  never  so  perfectly  conscious  of  a  soul 
within  me  J  as  when  I  am  entangled  in  them."  Again,  in  the 
sermon  on  the  Pharisee,  he  sajs :  "In  benevolent  natures  the 
impulse  to  pity  is  so  sudden,  that,  like  instruments  of  music 
which  obey  the  touch,  the  objects  which  are  fitted  to  excite  such 
impressions  work  so  instantaneously  that  you  wotild  think  the 
will  was  scarce  concerned.''''  Now,  if  we  admit  such  confes- 
sions to  be  what  Sterne  claims  for  them, —  "  loose  touches  of  an 
honest  heart," — they  explain,  by  the  want  of  balance,  the 
incompleteness  of  the  man,  his  overplus  of  sensibility  and  defi- 
ciency of  will  and  moral  harmony,  and  show  that  it  is  quite 
possible  for  genuine  feeling  to  coexist  with  "  infirmity  of  pur- 
pose," and  emotional  sympathy  with  an  absence  of  disinterested- 
ness. Hence,  Thackeray's  censure  is  indiscriminate,  when  he 
sums  up  the  character  of  this  author  with  the  statement  that  he 
"had  artistical  sensibility,"  and  "exercised  the  lucrative  gift  of 
weeping,"  and  that  he  is  represented  entirely  by  "  tears  and  fine 
feelings,  and  a  white  pocket  handkerchief,  a  procession  of  mutes, 
and  a  hearse  with  a  dead  donkey  inside."  This  is  satire,  not 
criticism.  Somewhat  more  real  must  Sterne's  writings  have  con- 
tained to  have  survived  the  fluctuations  of  taste,  and  proved  more 
or  less  models  for  subsequent  and  popular  authors.  Affectation 
and  indecency  are  so  alien  to  Anglo-Saxon  instincts  in  literature, 
that  only  a  large  admixture  of  wit  or  grace  could  have  preserved 
writings  thus  meretricious. 

This  temperament,  so  undesirable  for  moral  efficiency,  was 
favorable  to  authorship.  Its  almost  reckless  impulse  gave  a 
certain  sociability  to  pen-craft.  It  led,  indeed,  to  the  expression 
of  much  that  offends  refined  taste  and  elevated  sentiment,  but,  at 


820  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

the  same  time,  what  he  wrote  was  all  the  more  human  for  being 
unreserved.  As  a  good  table  companion,  while  he  entertains, 
often  in  the  same  proportion  forfeits  respect,  so  a  writer  of  this 
species  attracts,  by  virtue  of  an  abandon  which  is  full  of  peril 
as  a  trait  of  character,  and  jet  induces  a  thousand  felicities  of 
invention  and  style.  Allied  to  genius,  it  is  a  great  element  of 
success.  Without  it  Byron  would  never  have  imparted  the  sens- 
ation of  his  own  experience,  which  is  the  source  of  his  intensity. 
So  largely  does  it  enter  into  the  old  English  drama,  that  we  are 
continually  startled  and  thrilled  by  a  boldness  of  language  which, 
unchastened  as  it  is,  takes  hold  at  once  upon  the  emotional  in  our 
nature.  One  secret,  therefore,  of  the  charm  whereby  Sterne 
maintains  so  definite  a  rank  in  English  literature,  is  the  freedom 
of  his  tone,  involving,  with  much  that  is  gross,  a  frank  challenge 
to  our  sympathies  as  human  beings, —  a  companionable  appeal, 
which  the  reader,  with  even  an  inkling  of  geniality,  cannot  resist. 
He  professes  to  write  for  the  benefit  of  those  who,  "  when  cooped 
up  betwixt  a  natural  and  positive  law,  know  not,  for  their  souls, 
which  way  in  the  world  to  turn  themselves."  He  thus  establishes 
a  relation  with  his  reader,  personal,  direct,  and  genuine  —  the 
first  condition  of  success  in  authorship.  This  relation  is  never 
long  forgotten.  He  addresses  both  sexes,  in  a  colloquial,  friendly, 
trustful  manner,  and  seems  to  identify  himself  with  each  by  the 
magnetism  of  a  determined  recognition,  which  it  is  as  unpleasant 
to  evade  as  it  is  to  repel  the  courteous  and  benign  advances  of 
an  urbane  stranger  whom  we  accidentally  encounter.  He  is  so 
confidential,  communicative,  at  his  ease,  and  agreeable,  that  we 
instinctively  yield. 

Contemporary  records  give  us  quite  a  lively  idea  of  Sterne's 
dibut  in  the  world  of  letters.  The  same  prestige  has  attended 
many  an  author  before  and  since,  who  found  in  London  a  market 
for  his  books  and  an  arena  for  social  consideration ;  and  the  real 
significance  of  such  prandial  honors  as  attend  success  in  that 
metropolis  is  now  estimated  at  its  true  value.  Unless  the  popular 
author  boasts  more  legitimate  credentials  than  his  fame  as  a 
writer,  the  "  dinners  fourteen  deep  "  suggest  only  a  casual  posi- 
tion. Walpole,  in  his  usual  satirical  way,  treats  the  "run" 
which  the  early  volumes  of  Tristram  Shandy  enjoyed  as  one  of 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  321 

the  absurdities  of  fashion.  Johnson  sneered  at  the  author's 
countless  invitations ;  even  the  amiable  Goldsmith  called  him  a 
dull  fellow.  Warburton  repudiated  his  intimacy,  in  despair  of 
the  reform  he  attempted ;  and  Gray,  the  poet,  declared  it  made 
one  nervous  to  hear  him  preach,  because  his  discourse  continually 
verged  on  the  laughable.  Meanwhile  Sterne  encountered  these 
and  other  better-founded  objections  with  an  insensibility  which  in 
a  nobler  cause  would  have  been  heroic,  but  in  his  case  argues 
little  else  than  recklessness. 

Sterne  came  honestly  both  by  his  improvident  spirit  and  his 
clerical  title.  His  great-grand  Hither  was  Archbishop  of  York, 
and  his  father  was  killed  in  a  duel  which  originated  in  high  words 
about  a  goose.  His  boyhood  was  passed  in  the  vagabondage  of 
the  camp,  his  young  imagination  kindled  by  the  stories  of  Marl- 
borough's veterans ;  his  prime  degraded  by  intimacy  with  an 
obscene  writer,  whose  library  was  a  unique  collection  of  works 
especially  adapted  to  pervert  his  taste ;  literary  success  introduced 
him  suddenly  to  the  pleasures  of  the  town,  and  to  the  most  per- 
ilous of  all  situations  for  a  man  of  quick  intellect  and  keen  pas- 
sions —  that  of  a  favorite  diner-out  and  convivial  bufibon ;  the 
prestige  of  an  unscrupulous  wit  awaited  him  at  the  French  cap- 
ital ;  and  to  all  his  moral  exposures  he  brought  a  mind  unbraced 
by  any  clear  force  of  purpose,  a  nature,  both  physical  and  moral, 
far  more  sensitive  than  vigorous,  with  morbid  constitutional  ten- 
dencies, and  enslaved  to  pleasurable  sensations.  Thus  born  and 
bred^  the  creature  of  the  immediate,  only  by  a  rare  and  felicitous 
union  of  circumstances  was  it  possible  for  the  flattered  author,  the 
susceptible  cosmopolite,  the  imaginative  epicure,  to  acquire  that 
strength  of  will  and  methodical  discipline,  wherein  alone  could 
self-respect  be  intrenched.  He  must  either  have  met  the  problem 
of  life  on  perpetual  guard,  conscious  that  vigilant  resistance  was 
his  only  safety,  or  retired  from  its  blandishments  with  heroic  self- 
abnegation  ;  and  to  neither  of  these  alternatives  were  his  resolu- 
tion and  courage  adequate.  Hence  his  qui  vive  philosophy,  his 
deliberate  search  for  excitement,  the  habit  of  absorbing  conscious- 
ness in  variety  of  scene  and  outward  enjoyment,  the  attempt  to 
waive  off  all  mundane  annoyance,  and  even  death  itself 

So  reduced,  at  one  period,  was  Sterne,  that  he  hired  a  pane  in 


322  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

the  window  of  a  stationer's  shop,  and  placed  there  advertisements 
offering  his  services  to  all  who  stood  in  need  of  pen-craft,  from  the 
indolent  vicar  desirous  of  an  eloquent  sermon,  to  the  uneducated 
lover  who  would  fain  register  his  mistress'  charms  in  an  anagram. 
On  another  occasion,  it  is  related  that  he  stole  forth  at  night,  to 
solicit  a  loan  from  Garrick ;  but,  hearing  the  sounds  of  festivity 
within,  gently  replaced  the  uplifted  knocker  rather  than  expose 
his  shabby  dress  by  appearing  in  gay  company.  Debt  and  neglect 
made  his  exit  from  the  world  forlorn ;  not  a  single  friend  minis- 
tered to  his  dying  wants ;  and  the  very  companions  who  had  most 
frequently  applauded  his  table-talk  were  interrupted  in  their 
mirth  by  the  announcement  of  his  decease.  These  anecdotes 
form  a  gloomy  contrast  to  the  hues  in  which  Sterne  loved  to 
depict  human  life ;  for  they  are  unrelieved  by  cheerfulness,  and 
unsoften^d  by  sentiment.  Perhaps  in  all  literary  history  there 
is  not  a  more  impressive  instance  of  the  inevitable  consequence  of 
that  unnatural  divorce  between  genius  and  character  which  turns 
the  blessed  promise  of  the  former  into  a  mockery.  It  is  as  pam- 
ful  in  literature  as  in  life  to  be  charmed,  and  yet  to  feel  obliged 
to  question  the  spell ;  to  experience  a  conflict  between  the  sense 
of  beauty  and  the  moral  judgment,  and  to  condemn  the  man  while 
we  enjoy  the  author.  Quite  the  reverse  of  the  Oriental  benedic- 
tion, ''  May  you  die  among  your  kindred!  "  was  his  confessed 
wish.  "  I  certainly  declare,"  he  says,  "  against  submitting  to 
it  [death]  before  my  friends."  In  accordance  with  the  vagrant 
humor  and  casual  sentiment  that  gave  a  charm  to  his  writing  and 
a  recklessness  to  his  character,  he  desired  to  close  his  existence 
away  from  home,  and  to  receive  the  last  offices  of  humanity  from 
strangers ;  and  thus  it  happened.  While  hirelings  were  endeav- 
oring to  restore  circulation  to  his  feet,  as  he  lay  in  his  lodgings 
in  Old  Bond  street,  he  expired ;  not,  like  Scott,  surrounded  by 
awed  and  weeping  relatives  and  dependents;  nor,  like  Cowper, 
with  a  smile  of  "holy  surprise;"  nor,  like  Johnson,  with  the 
friends  of  years  tearfully  awaiting  the  sad  event.  His  ties,  with 
one  or  two  exceptions,  had  all  been  convivial  and  "  sentimental," 
to  use  his  favorite  word,  rather  than  affectionate ;  no  grand  sin- 
cerity of  feeling  or  noble  self-devotion  had  enshrmed  him  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  were  amused  by  his  wit,  or  softened  by  his 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  323 

pathos ;  and  the  man  who,  of  all  English  authors,  made  emotion 
the  staple  of  his  writings,  and  chiefly  sought  to  apply  literary  art 
to  the  expression  of  sentiment,  passed  away  with  the  paltriest 
oblation,  and  owed  his  monument  to  public  charity. 

It  is  usual  to  regard  the  private  correspondence  of  an  author  as 
the  best  test  of  his  disposition.  We  have  ample  means  of  this 
nature  to  aid  our  judgment.  There  are  domestic  letters  to  his 
wife  and  daughter,  business  letters  to  Foley  his  banker,  friendly 
letters  to  Garrick,  his  cousin,  and  several  London  and  Paris 
acquaintances,  and  love-letters  to  Mrs.  Draper.  In  them  we  dis- 
cover his  social  relations,  his  opinions,  private  life,  and  tone  of 
mind,  and  can  easily  perceive  the  sprightliness  and  geniality  that 
captivated  such  men  as  the  Baron  d'Holbach  and  Lord  Bathurst. 
His  letters  confirm  our  theory  of  his  character ;  they  exhibit  the 
extremes  of  animal  spirits,  the  constant  trials  of  an  invalid,  the 
caprices  of  a  sensitive  and  the  recklessness  of  an  excitable  mind ; 
yet  with  these  defects  appear,  in  equally  strong  colors,  devoted 
parental  love,  cheerful  philosophy,  a  conscientious  regard  to  the 
claims  of  family  and  friends,  candor,  kindliness,  and  a  sense  of 
the  beautiful  and  the  true.  How  variable  in  his  moods,  how 
much  a  creature  of  mere  temperament  and  sensibility,  how  prone 
to  artificiality  in  the  midst  of  natural  emotion,  was  this  singular 
compound  of  the  man  of  the  world  and  the  sentimental  epicure, 
clearly  appears  in  his  off-hand  epistles.  The  manner  in  which  he 
meets  the  arguments  of  judicious  friends,  who  urged  him  to  sup- 
press objectionable  parts  of  Tristram  Shandy,  shows  conclusively 
that  he  was  deficient  in  what  may  be  called  the  instinct  of  the 
appropriate.  It  was  the  fashion  in  his  day  for  both  the  aristocracy 
and  the  literati  to  indulge  in  table-talk  which  now  would  scarcely 
be  tolerated  in  a  barrack ;  and  it  is  evident  that  he  calculated 
upon  the  popularity  of  an  obscene  joke,  without  any  adequate 
notion  of  the  defilement  it  cast  on  a  printed  work  designed  for 
general  perusal.  In  those  letters  which  are  addressed  to  the  last 
object  of  his  sentiment,  there  is  displayed  an  anxiety  for  her  com- 
fort and  welfare  which  betokens  genuine  disinterestedness ;  and, 
during  the  few  weeks  preceding  his  death,  a  most  affectionate  soli- 
citude for  his  child  is  apparent.  A  few  random  extracts  will  best 
illustrate  these  diverse  traits  of  his  correspondence. 


324  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

"  She  made  me  stay  an  hour  with  her ;  and  in  that  short  space 
I  burst  into  tears  a  dozen  different  times." 

' '  Heaven  forbid  the  stock  of  chastity  should  be  lessened  by  the 
life  and  opinions  of  Tristram  Shandy !  I  can  assure  you  that 
the  very  passages  and  descriptions  you  propose  that  I  should 
sacrifice  in  my  second  edition,  are  what  are  best  relished  by  men 
of  wit,  and  some  othei-s  whom  I  esteem  as  sound  critics." 

"  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  say  or  write  one  premeditated 
word  in  my  whole  life." 

"  Till  I  have  the  honor  to  be  as  much  maltreated  as  Rabelais 
and  Swift  were,  I  must  continue  humble.  I  care  not  a  curse  for 
the  critics." 

''  Lyd  has  a  pony  which  she  delights  in.  'T  is  a  very  agreea^ 
ble  ride  out  in  a  chaise  I  purchased  for  my  wife.  Whilst  they 
take  these  diversions,  I  am  scribbling  away  at  my  Tristram.  So 
much  am  I  delighted  with  my  Uncle  Toby's  character,  that  I  am 
become  an  enthusiast." 

''  I  Shandy  it  away  fifty  times  more  than  I  was  ever  wont." 
"  We  are  every  night  fiddling,  laughing,  and  singing,  and 
Cracking  jokes." 

"  We  live  all  the  longer  for  having  things  our  own  way.  This 
is  my  conjugal  maxim." 

*'  Write,  dear  Lydia,  whatever  comes  into  your  little  head." 
"  I  am  but  this  moment  returned  from  Scarborough,  and  have 
received  marvellous  strength,  had  I  not  debilitated  it  as  fast  as  I 
got  it,  by  playing  the  good  fellow  with  Lord  Granby  and  Co." 

"I  set  out  to  lay  a  portion  of  it  out  (money  derived  from 
Tristram  and  Sermons)  in  the  service  of  the  world,  in  a  tour 
round  Italy ;  where  I  shall  spring  game,  or  the  deuce  is  in  the 
dice." 

"  Almost  all  the  nobility  of  England  honor  me  with  their 
names." 

"  After  all  this  badinage^  my  heart  is  innocent ;  and  the  sport- 
ing of  my  pen  is  equal,  just  equal,  to  what  I  did  in  my  boyish 
days,  when  I  got  astride  of  a  stick,  and  galloped  away." 

"Praised  be  Grod  for  my  sensibility !     Though  it  has  often^ 
made  me  wretched,  yet  I  would  not  exchange  it  for  all  the 
pleasures  the  grossest  sensualist  ever  felt." 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  325 

"  Since  I  got  home  to  quietness,  and  temperance,  and  good 
books,  and  good  hours,  I  have  mended;  and  am  now  very 
stout." 

''  There  is  so  little  true  feeling  in  the  herd  of  the  world,  that 
I  wish  I  could  have  got  an  act  of  parliament,  when  the  books  first 
appeared,  that  none  but  wise  men  should  look  into  them." 

*'  My  girl  cannot  form  a  wish  that  is  in  the  power  of  her  flither 
that  he  will  not  gratify  her  in.  I  am  never  alone.  The  kindness 
of  my  friends  is  ever  the  same ;  I  wish,  though,  I  had  thee  to 
nurse  me.     God  bless  thee,  my  child  !  " 

''  Dearest,  kindest,  gentlest,  and  best  of  women  !  may  health, 
peace,  and  happiness,  prove  your  handmaids  !  If  I  die,  cherish 
the  remembrance  of  me,  and  forget  the  follies  which  you  so  often 
condemned  —  which  my  heart,  not  my  head,  betrayed  me  into. 
Should  my  child,  my  Lydia,  want  a  mother,  may  I  hope  you  will 
(if  she  is  left  parentless)  take  her  to  your  bosom? " 

We  cannot,  with  some  of  the  wholesale  ccnsurers  of  Sterne, 
find  merely  the  proofs  of  licentious  intrigue,  even  in  the  most 
lover-like  of  these  epistles,  —  those  addressed  to  the  wife  of  an 
Indian  nabob.  The  lady  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  most 
fragile  of  beings,  and  to  have  possessed  that  ethereal  grace  of 
character  so  often  coincident  with  delicate  organizations.  Sterne 
takes  infinite  pains  to  convince  her  that  he  is  not  captivated  by 
her  beauty,  but  inspired  by  her  truth,  refinement,  and  social 
talents.  She  affects  him  in  so  genial  a  way  that  he  wishes  he 
could  write  under  the  immediate  influence  of  her  presence.  His 
advice  to  her  is  excellent.  It  is  directed  against  the  too  easy  and 
frank  disposition  usually  found  in  combination  with  such  beautiful 
traits  of  character.  "Reverence  thyself,"  is  his  constant  and 
wise  monition.  He  proposes  to  her  a  visit  to  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter, and  promises  that  their  friendship  and  care  shall  alleviate 
her  physical  sufferings ;  buys  an  arm-chair  and  other  comforts  as 
for  an  invalid,  and  begs  her  to  avoid  her  newly-painted  cabin 
when  about  to  embark  for  the  East.  In  short,  the  candor  and 
solicitude  of  a  tender  and  undisguised  interest,  which  he  evidently 
■wishes  his  family  and  intimates  to  share,  appear  in  the  midst  of 
his  most  sentimental  outpourings. 

In  presenting  a  new  volume  of  his  sermons  to  an  intimate 
28 


326  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

friend,  Sterne  declared  that  tliey  were  dictated  bj  his  heart, 
while  his  other  writings  came  from  his  head.  The  style  of  these 
discourses  is  fluent,  clear,  and  sometimes  elegant ;  thej  are,  how- 
ever, more  ingenious  than  impressive,  and  their  eloquence  is 
didactic  rather  than  glowing.  It  is  easy  to  recognize  the  author 
of  Tristram  Shandy  even  in  the  most  chastened  of  his  homilies. 
They  indicate  a  knowledge  of  the  world  ;  Shakspeare  is  quoted ; 
the  text  is  sometimes  opposed,  by  way  of  more  effectually  clinch- 
ing the  argument  at  last ;  a  parable  of  Scripture  narrative  is 
often  gracefully  elaborated,  and  there  is  constant  allusion  to,  and 
defence  of,  the  compassionate  virtues.  In  view  of  the  limits  pre- 
scribed to  this  species  of  writing,  and  compared  with  the  average 
sermons  of  the  Establishment  in  his  day,  they  may  be  justly 
declared  to  possess  uncommon  interest  in  both  matter  and  expres- 
sion ;  but  their  tone  is  too  much  subdued,  and  the  preacher 
hovers  too  near  the  brink  of  the  humorous  and  the  colloquial,  for 
earnestness.  He  is  most  at  home  in  eulogizing  affection  and 
sympathy,  and  in  reproducing  Bible  stories,  of  one  of  which  he 
says,  "Like  all  others,  much  of  it  depends  upon  the  telling." 
His  two  characteristics  —  frankness  and  susceptibility — are  advo- 
cated with  zest.  "  Be  open,"  he  remarks,  in  allusion  to  marriage, 
**be  honest;  give  yourself  for  what  you  are;  conceal  nothing; 
varnish  nothing ;  and,  if  these  fair  weapons  will  not  do,  better 
not  to  conquer  at  all  than  conquer  for  a  day."  And  elsewhere, 
"  Let  the  torpid  monk  seek  heaven  comfortless  and  alone.  God 
speed  him !  For  my  own  part,  I  fear  I  should  never  so  find  the 
way  ;  let  me  be  wise  and  religious,  but  let  me  be  a  man." 

In  our  restless  times,  the  perpetual  digressions  of  Sterne  excite 
impatience  ;  yet,  in  the  contemplative  mood  which  genuine  reading 
demands,  this  fragmentary  and  desultory  style  has  its  advantages. 
We  seem  to  participate  in  the  authorship,  to  enter  into  the  pro- 
cess of  the  book ;  and,  if  sympathetic,  we  soon  catch  the  spirit  of 
leisure  and  speculation,  the  random  and  capricious  taste  of  the 
writer,  surrendering,  at  last,  according  to  his  wish,  the  reins  of 
imagination  into  his  genial  hand.  This  is  especially  requisite  to 
enjoy  Sterne.  He  does  not  rely  upon  strong  outlines  and  remark- 
able incidents,  but  upon  the  atmosphere  of  his  narratives  and 
lucubrations.    Much  of  his  material  is  but  the  transcript  of  vague 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  327 

musing.  He  deals  with  no  improbabilities,  and  calls  himself  "a 
small  hero,"  and  "  the  sport  of  fortune;  "  but  his  pages,  Avrought 
as  they  are  chiefly  out  of  common  experience,  win  over  readers 
by  their  familiarity  of  detail  and  their  candor.  He  seems  to  be 
minutely  observant  under  the  inspiration  of  a  passionless  ideal- 
ity. There  is,  too,  a  vagrant  humor  in  both  his  thought  and  his 
style,  which  has  a  peculiar  charm,  especially  to  the  unadventur- 
ous  dreamer.  To  read  Tristram  Shandy  is  like  comparing  notes 
with  a  kindly,  eccentric,  philosophical  good  fellow,  somewhat  of 
a  scholar,  but  more  of  a  human  creature,  who  "loves  a  jest  in 
his  heart,"  can  rail  good-naturedly  at  the  world,  and  is  consoled 
by  wit  and  animal  spirits  for  its  neglect.  We  soon,  therefore, 
accede  to  his  purpose,  honestly  avowed,  and  let  "  familiarity  grow 
into  friendship." 

The  then  recent  battles  of  Marlborough,  and  his  own  recollec- 
tions of  barrack  and  transport,  naturally  filled  Sterne's  mind 
with  the  technicalities  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  soldier's  pro- 
fession reproduced  so  quaintly  in  Uncle  Toby  and  Trim.  His 
attainments  were  quite  limited,  but,  as  with  the  majority  of 
belles-lettres  authors,  a  taste  for  miscellaneous  reading,  and  an 
aptitude  for  seizing  on  available  materials,  whether  found  in 
books  or  in  life,  supplied  him  with  the  needful  resources  from 
which  to  elaborate  his  wit  and  humor.  All  that  he  required  was 
a  nucleus  for  imagination,  a  starting-point  for  random  cogitation 
and  sentiment ;  and  this  he  found  at  one  moment  in  an  historical 
anecdote,  at  another  in  a  domestic  incident,  now  in  a  logical 
proposition,  and  again  in  a  Parisian  shop,  or  a  Calais  inn-yard. 

It  detracts  nothing  from  Sterne's  originality,  that  the  proto- 
types of  his  characters  have  been,  in  many  instances,  identified. 
It  is  the  coloring,  rather  than  the  invention,  of  his  writings,  in 
which  consists  their  peculiar  charm.  As  in  the  plots  of  Shak- 
speare,  and  the  travels  of  Byron,  what  of  mere  incident  occurs 
is  chiefly  important  as  a  nucleus  for  his  idiosyncrasies.  It  is  the 
treatment,  and  not  the  theme,  that  wins  our  sympathies.  To  use 
a  chemical  figure  of  speech,  the  scenes  and  personages  to  which 
he  introduces  us  serve  mainly  to  precipitate  the  humor  and  senti- 
ment of  the  author.  The  papers  on  Sterne  by  Dr.  Ferriar,  pre- 
served in  the  Transactions  of  the  Manchester  Society,  are  but 


328  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

curious  literary  researches,  and  throw  comparatively  no  light  on 
the  real  genius  of  Yorick.  However  largely  he  was  indebted  to 
old  Burton  and  Rabelais,  the  individuality  of  his  conceptions 
remains.  Take  away  the  plot,  the  scholarship,  and  the  anecdoti- 
cal  episodes,  and  we  have  still  a  fund  of  quaint  generalization,  a 
special  vein  of  pathetic  and  humorous  sentiment,  which  consti- 
tutes the  real  claim  of  Sterne  as  an  author.  The  delight  which 
Dr.  Ferriar  derived  from  him  was  quite  independent  of  his  bor- 
rowed plumes  ;  it  came  from  the  cleverness  of  his  satire,  and  the 
power  of  inducing  a  mood  of  quiet  emotion  and  gentle  mirth ; 
and  especially  from  a  suggestive  faculty,  in  which  no  English 
author  excels  him. 

He  opened  to  the  mass  of  English  readers  that  attractive 
domain  in  literature,  which  Rousseau  in  France,  and  Richter  in 
Germany,  made  popular ;  though  in  him,  unfortunately,  it  was 
not  linked  with  aspirations  for  social  amelioration,  as  in  Jean 
Jacques,  nor  with  deep-hearted  sympathies,  as  in  Jean  Paul. 
Sterne  was  organized  to  feel  and  to  evolve,  but  not  to  hallow  and 
realize,  those  beautiful  emotions  of  the  soul  in  which  so  essen- 
tially consist  its  glory  and  its  bane.  In  his  hands  the  work 
degenerated  too  often  into  ''  the  art  of  talking  amusing  non- 
sense; "  it  was  debased  by  indecency,  and  made  contemptible  by 
caprice.  Burns  declared  that  he  put  himself  on  the  regimen  of 
admiring  a  fine  woman,  in  order  to  secure  inspiration.  Sterne 
said  that  he  had  been  in  love  with  some  Dulcinea,  all  his  life, 
because  it  "sweetened  his  temper."  He  was  an  amorous  jester, 
a  sentimental  epicure,  and  his  theory  was  to  make  the  most  of 
life  by  adroitly  skimming  its  surface.  The  tender  pasiion  was  a 
means  of  casual  luxury,  not  a  serious  experience.  He  protested 
against  gravity,  and,  as  Goldoni  fought  off  the  spleen  by  habitu- 
ally standing  on  his  guard  like  a  wary  fencer,  Sterne  adopted 
mirth  as  a  panacea,  clutching  at  the  straws  on  the  tide  of  sorrow 
with  the  childish  impulse  of  desperation.  "  I  am  fabricating 
them"  (the  last  volume  of  Tristram  Shandy),  he  says,  "for  the 
laughing  part  of  the  world ;  for  the  melancholy  part  of  it,  I  have 
nothing  but  my  prayers." 

There  was  a  decided  taste  in  Sterne's  day  for  those  colloquial 
treatises,  lay  sermons,  and  minor  speculations,  which,  under  tho 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  329 

name  of  the  British  Essayists,  form  a  department  of  literature 
peculiar  to  England ;  and  this  taste  was  united  in  the  uneducated 
with  a  love  of  narrative  and  fiction,  to  which  De  Foe,  and  other 
raconteurs^  ministered.  The  two  were  admirably  combined  in 
Sterne ;  his  writings  are  made  up,  in  about  equal  proportions,  of 
speculation  and  description  —  now  a  portrait,  and  now  a  reverie  ; 
on  one  page  ingenious  argument,  on  the  next,  humorous  anec- 
dote. Thus  something  seems  provided  for  every  literary  palate  ; 
and  his  desultory  plan,  or  want  of  plan,  became  a  chief  source  of 
his  popularity.  That  he  was  conscious  of  an  original  vein,  not- 
w^ithstunding  the  abundant  material  of  which  he  availed  himself, 
may  be  inferred  from  his  self-complacent  query,  "  Shall  we  for- 
ever make  new  books,  as  the  apothecaries  make  new  mixtures,  by 
pouring  only  out  of  one  vessel  into  another  ?  " 

Perhaps  the  absence  of  constructive  art  increased  the  popular- 
ity of  Sterne.  To  many  readers  there  is  a  charm  in  the  bold- 
ness which  sets  rules  at  defiance ;  and  the  author  of  Tristram 
Shandy  not  only  braved  that  sense  of  propriety  which  is  an 
instinct  of  better  natures,  but  seemed  to  take  a  wanton  delight  in 
writing  a  book  v/ithout  any  regard  to  established  precedents, 
either  in  its  arrangement  or  the  development  of  its  subject.  He 
was  the  reverse  of  careless,  however,  in  his  habits  of  composi- 
tion, and,  running  through  all  his  apparent  indifference  of  mood, 
there  is  obvious  a  trick  of  art.  It  is  in  the  use  of  his  materials, 
rather  than  in  style,  that  he  violates  the  order  of  a  finished  nar- 
ration. Gathering  from  the  storehouse  of  a  tenacious  memory 
what  he  had  heard  of  fortifications,  camp  life,  obstetrics,  and  for- 
eign countries,  and  linking  them  together  with  curious  gleanings 
of  erudition,  he  gave  vitjility  and  interest  to  the  whole  by  the 
introduction  of  several  original  and  well-sustained  characters,  and 
occasional  passages  of  skilful  dialogue  and  pathetic  story.  The 
result  was  a  imlange.  whose  fragmentary  shape  and  indecent 
allusions  were  counterbalanced,  though  by  no  means  atoned  for, 
by  felicitous  creations,  and  the  graphic  limning  of  still-life.  He 
has  candidly  given  us  his  own  theory  of  authorship.  "  Digres- 
sions," he  says,  "are  the  sunshine;  they  are  the  life  and  soul  of 
reading."  Instead  of  apologizing  for  an  episode,  he  calls  it  ''a 
master  stroke  of  digressive  skill."  "  To  write  a  book,"  he  else- 
28* 


380  THE    SENTIMENTALIST. 

"where  observes,  "is  for  all  the  world  like  humming  a  song;  be 
but  in  tune  with  yourself,  't  is  no  matter  how  high  or  how  low 
you  take  it." 

The  best  illustration  of  these  traits  is  the  "  Sentimental  Jour- 
ney," the  author's  last,  most  finished,  and  most  harmonious  work. 
Borrow  traversed  Spain  to  distribute  the  Bible,  Inglis  to  trace 
the  footsteps  of  Don  Quixote ;  Addison  explored  Italy  for  classi- 
cal localities,  Forsyth  to  investigate  her  architecture ;  Beckford 
revelled  in  the  luxuries  of  art  and  climate ;  English  travellers  in 
America  have  applied  microscopic  observation  to  republican  de- 
fects ;  some  tourists  have  taken  for  their  specialile  geology,  oth- 
ers prison-reform,  others  physical  geography,  —  some  gossip,  and 
some  ridicule ;  but  Yorick  alone,  so  far  as  we  are  informed,  has 
chased  in  foreign  regions  the  phantom  of  sentiment,  and  sought 
food  for  emotion.  The  very  idea  of  the  book  combines  the  hu- 
morous and  the  pathetic,  in  that  conscious,  playful  way  which 
individualizes  Sterne  among  English  authors.  To  set  out  upon 
one's  Continental  travels  predetermined  to  enfold  all  experience, 
however  familiar  and  commonplace,  with  an  atmosphere  of  senti- 
ment, and  to  note  the  sensations,  moods,  teai*s,  sighs,  and  laughs, 
which  beset  a  susceptible  pilgrim,  has  in  it  a  comic  element,  while 
there  was  just  enough  of  reality  in  the  states  of  mind  recorded  to 
banish  the  notion  of  a  mere  fancy  sketch.  "  My  design  in  it,'' 
said  Sterne,  "  was  to  teach  us  to  love  the  world  and  our  fellow- 
creatures  better."  He  is  too  little  in  earnest,  —  too  sentimental, 
in  the  present  acceptation  of  that  word,  —  to  have  succeeded  in 
this  purpose  as  a  man  of  deeper  and  less  capricious  feelings  might 
have  done  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  his  book,  considered  as  a  lit- 
erary experiment  and  a  personal  revelation,  is  a  psychological 
curiosity.  It  admirably  shows  the  difference  between  a  man  of 
sentiment  and  a  sentimental  man.  The  latter  character  is  depicted 
to  the  life.  Incorrigible  to  the  last  in  the  matter  of  equivoques 
and  innuendoes,  he  has  deformed  this  otherwise  dainty  narrative 
with  indecencies  that  offer  a  remarkable  contrast  to  the  delicacy 
of  perception  and  style  which  has  rendered  the  work  a  kind  of 
classic  in  the  library  of  English  travels.  "  What  a  large  volume 
of  adventures  may  be  grasped  within  this  little  span  of  life  by 
him  who  interests  his  heart  in  everything !  "     This  is  the  text 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  831 

of  the  "  Sentimental  Journey,"  and  it  is  founded  on  a  genuine  idi- 
osyncrasy. Human  nature  boasts  of  more  generous,  permanent, 
and  profound  sensibilities  than  have  to  do  with  such  a  cosmopoli- 
tan and  superficial  heart ;  yet  its  exhibition  forms  one  of  those 
odd  and  suggestive  chapters  in  life  that  aid  our  study  of  charac- 
ter. The  design  of  the  work  once  approved,  no  one  can  complain 
of  the  execution,  always  excepting  the  violations  of  propriety  in 
certain  of  the  episodes.  A  monk  asking  alms,  a  widow,  servants 
on  holiday,  a  dwarf  whose  view  of  the  opera  is  interrupted  by  a 
tall  soldier,  a  man  lamenting  his  dead  ass,  an  imaginary  cap- 
tain, a  polite  beggar,  a  crazed  beggar-girl,  an  impoverished  knight 
of  St.  Louis  selling  pates,  —  these,  and  similar  by-way  children 
of  misfortune,  are  the  subjects  of  the  wanderer's  compassion  and 
reveries,  with  occasional  memories  of  Eugenius  and  Eliza,  and 
of  his  wife  and  daughter,  who  serve  as  permanent  resources  upon 
which  his  emotion  falls  back  when  no  fresh  object  presents  itself. 
In  the  hands  of  an  ordinary  writer  these  would  p^ove  ineffective 
materials ;  but  Sterne  has  made  distirict  and  rich  pictures  of  them 
all.  If  the  feeling  smacks  of  affectation,  wit  embalms  and  re- 
deems it.  We  are  constantly  disposed,  as  we  read,  to  echo  the 
Count  de  B 's  exclamation  when  Yorick  talked  him  into  pro- 
curing a  passport,  —  "  C'est  bleti  dit ;"  so  easy,  colloquial,  and 
often  most  nicely  balanced,  is  the  style.  The  short  chapters  are 
like  cabinet  pictures,  neatly  outlined  and  softly  tinted ;  we  carry 
from  them  an  impression  which  lingers  like  a  favorite  air.  How 
often  have  authors  taken  from  this  work  a  valuable  hint,  and, 
avoiding  its  exceptionable  qualities,  elaborately  imitated  its  word- 
painting  and  its  atmosphere !  It  modified  the  literature  of 
travel,  which  previously  bore  marks  of  utter  carelessness,  by 
indicating  the  artistic  capabilities  of  a  species  of  books  that  had 
been  deemed  mere  vehicles  of  statistical  and  circumstantial  infor- 
mation. 

Sterne  often  quotes  Sancho  Panza,  and  invokes  the  "gentle 
spirit  of  sweetest  humor,  who  erst  did  sit  upon  the  easy  pen  of 
his  beloved  Cervantes;"  and  it  is  probable  that  Don  Quixote 
suggested  the  "  Sentimental  Journey."  As  "the  Knight  of  the 
Rueful  Countenance"  went  forth,  with  a  peasant  for  a  squire,  in 
pursuit  of  chivalric  adventures,  so  the  author  sets  out,  with  a 


832  THE    SENTIMENTALIST. 

French  valet,  on  a  crusade  of  sentiment.  The  Don  saw  every- 
thing through  the  lens  of  knight-errantry,  and  the  susceptible 
pilgrim  beholds  the  world  through  the  medium  of  an  exaggerated 
tenderness.  The  relations  of  Sancho  and  La  Fieur  to  their  mas- 
ters are  parallel,  however  diverse  their  characters.  The  incidents 
which  Sterne  arrays  in  an  imaginative  guise  are  as  commonplace 
in  themselves  as  those  which  Cervantes  uses  as  materials  for  his 
hero's  enthusiasm.  What  the  windmill  and  the  way-side  inn  are 
to  the  one,  the  Kemise  door  and  the  glove-shop  are  to  the  other. 
In  its  eflfect,  too,  upon  the  reader's  mind,  this  exaggerated  con- 
tact of  sentiment  with  e very-day  life  is  as  humorous  as  that  of 
ancient  chivalry  with  modern  utilitarianism ;  an  equally  salient 
contrast  and  a  like  quaint  vein  are  opened.  Speculation,  anec- 
dote, the  high  and  the  low,  the  vulgar  and  the  ideal,  blend  their 
associations,  both  in  the  Spanish  romance,  and  the  "  Sentimental 
Journey ;"  but  all  are  enveloped  in  an  atmosphere  of  harmonious 
feeling,  and  clothed  in  graceful  language.  This  analogy  is  in- 
creased by  the  fact,  that,  as  the  readers  of  Don  Quixote  are 
enlightened  as  to  the  knight's  habits  by  the  garrulous  squire,  so 
to  the  valet  of  the  sentimental  pilgrim  are  we  indebted  for  the 
little  authentic  information  extant  regarding  Sterne's  real  state 
of  mind.  La  Fleur,  indeed,  was  as  much  an  original  in  his  way 
as  his  master.  A  native  of  Burgundy  in  the  humblest  circum- 
stances, he  followed  the  occupation  of  a  drummer  for  six  years,  in 
order  to  see  the  world ;  and  an  officer  of  the  regiment  to  which 
he  was  attached  obtained  for  him  the  situation  of  a  valet  to  a  Mi- 
lord AiiffloiSj  in  which  capacity  he  was  afterwards  employed  by 
Sterne.  His  wife  ran  off  with  an  actor,  and  he  felt  so  much  at 
home  in  England,  that,  during  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  he  was 
often  employed  as  a  courier,  and  was  sent  on  repeated  missions 
across  the  Channel.  He  used  to  surprise  his  master  in  fits  of 
profound  melancholy,  whence,  upon  being  observed,  he  would  sud- 
denly rouse  himself  with  some  flippant  expression.  He  declares 
that  the  sight  of  misery  usually  affected  Sterne  to  tears ;  that  he 
was  charitable,  and  used  to  make  frequent  notes  of  his  daily  expe- 
rience; and  that  his  conversation  with  women  was  "of  the  most 
interesting  kind,  and  left  them  serious,  if  it  did  not  find  them 
so."     The  incidents  so  daintily  recorded  in  his  travels,  La  Fleur 


LAURENCE    STERNE.  333 

likewise  authenticated ;  and  through  hira  we  know  that  his  mas- 
ter busily  collected  materials  for  a  work  on  Italy  during  his  tour 
in  that  country,  although  he  never  could  succeed  in  speaking 
Italian. 

In  the  history  of  English  literature,  there  is,  now  and  then,  a 
writer  who  seems  to  have  caught  his  tone  from  the  other  side  of 
the  Channel.  The  Gallic  school  was  imitated  by  Pope  and  Con- 
greve,  though  in  the  former  it  is  exhibited  rather  in  style  than  in 
range  of  thought.  Brilliancy,  artistical  refinement,  and  graceful 
expression,  are  the  characteristics  of  this  class  of  writers ;  they 
deal  rather  in  manners  than  in  passions ;  fancy  usurps  with  them 
the  place  of  imagination,  wit  that  of  reflection ;  animal  spirits, 
instead  of  soul-felt  emotions,  seem  to  inspire  their  muse ;  they 
are  not  often  in  earnest  except  in  the  desire  to  please  ;  and,  more 
ingenious  than  profound,  with  more  tact  than  elevation,  they  offer 
an  entire  contrast  to  the  manly,  intense,  frank  utterance  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  dramatists,  and  the  pure  love  of  nature  of  the  modern 
bards.  Sterne  partakes  largely  of  the  light  graces  and  the  viva- 
cious tone  of  the  best  French  writers ;  and  one  reason  of  his 
popularity  is  the  refreshment  his  countrymen  always  derive  from 
the  less  grave  and  more  sprightly  attractions  of  their  Continental 
neighbors.  "  They  order  this  matter  better  in  France,"  was  a 
maxim  which  Sterne's  taste  and  temper  made  applicable  not  only 
to  the  economy,  but  to  the  philosophy,  of  life,  of  which  his  view 
was  the  opposite  of  serious.  The  foreign  perversion  which  was 
introduced  into  English  literature  during  the  licentious  era  of  the 
Restoration  was  casual  and  temporary.  The  writers  then  so 
fashionable  are  nearly  all  forgotten,  while  those  of  the  age  of 
Elizabeth  and  Anne  maintain  their  just  and  clear  supremacy. 
In  a  few  instances,  however,  the  influence  of  French  taste 
moulded  works  on  the  English  side  of  the  Channel  which  the 
genius  of  the  authors  redeemed  from  neglect,  in  spite  of  an  ele- 
ment alien  to  the  Saxon  mind;  and  such  was  the  case  with 
Sterne's  writings. 

This  Continental  affinity  is  still  more  obvious  in  his  love  of  the 
old  French  raconteurs.  Dr.  Ferriar  traces  his  manner  directly 
to  Marivaux  ;  and  it  is  equally  significant  that  no  English  writer 
has  been  more  completely  domesticated  on  the  Continent,  Though 


334  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

we  find  cheap  editions  of  Young  and  Dr.  Franklin  in  the  book-stalls 
of  Paris  and  Florence,  the  gloomy  speculation  of  the  one  and  the 
practical  wisdom  of  the  other  are  but  vaguely  appreciated  in 
France  and  Italy,  while  the  sentimental  refinements  and  genial 
musings  of  Sterne  adapt  themselves  readily  to  then*  more  sus- 
ceptible and  imaginative  minds.  It  is  true  that  the  usual  absurd 
mistakes  occur  which  seem  inevitable  in  the  French  interpretation 
of  English  literature, —  one  critic  accepting  Tristram  Shandy  as 
a  veritable  biography,  and  another  classifying  its  author  with  the 
social  innovators  and  daring  thinkers  of  the  revolutionary  era; 
yet,  on  the  other  hand,  very  faithful  translations  of  Sterne,  espe- 
cially in  Italian,  are  not  only  obtainable,  but  have  become  the 
favorite  reading  of  that  large  class  who  delight  in  Foscolo. 

A  recent  critic  *  denies  to  Sterne  all  exact  proficiency  in  the 
French  language,  and  cites  many  errors  to  prove  his  incorrect- 
ness; as,  for  instance,  c'est  tout  egal  for  c'est  egal^  M.  Anglois 
instead  of  M.  VAjiylois^  etc.  La  Fleur,  in  speaking  of  a  horse, 
is  made  to  say,  Oest  uti  cheval  le  plus  opinidtre  du  monde, 
and  it  is  argued  that  a  good  French  scholar  would  never  have 
applied  the  word  opiniatre  to  a  hoi*se,  nor  substituted  the  article 
un  for  le.  In  the  chapter  on  "The  Passport,"  also,  ces  Mes- 
sieurs les  Anglois  should  be  Messieurs  les  Anglais.  The  correct 
French  in  the  Drummer's  letter,  it  is  declared  firom  internal 
evidence,  is  not  Sterne's.  Colloquial  blunders,  however,  do  not 
invalidate  the  Gallic  pretensions  of  this  author,  whose  natural 
affinity  with  his  mercurial  neighbors  across  the  Channel  is  self- 
evident.  French  criticisms  of  English  literature  are  proverbially 
superficial,  and  often  ludicrous.  Voltaire  talks  of  Shakspeare, 
Chateaubriand  of  Milton,  and  Guizot  of  modem  British  poets,  in 
terms  of  vague  generalization,  which  show  that  at  best  they  have 
only  appreciated  the  tone,  without  penetrating  to  the  deep  signifi- 
cance and  individual  genius,  of  these  authors.  It  is  otherwise 
with  such  a  writer  as  Sterne,  although  some  amusing  errors  have 
occurred  in  the  French  estimate  of  his  aims  and  character.  The 
qualities  which  rendered  him  popular  and  eccentric  are  quite  as 
well  recognized  by  the  nation  he  loved  so  dearly  as  at  home. 

•  Notes  and  Queries. 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  835 

Bajle  describes  liim  as  ''  uniquement  occupe  a  etudier  ses  sensa- 
tions, ses  gouts,  ses  penchants  particuliers,  a  rendre  un  compte 
exact  et  minutieux  des  emotions  qu'il  eprouve  et  des  hasards  qui 
les  font  naitre."  He  calls  liim  "  malin,  pathetique,"  notes  his 
*'  simplicite,"  his  "  sensibilite  exquise  et  douce,"  his  "  expres- 
sion fine,  plaisante  et  moquese  qu'indique  un  esprit  vif,  brillant, 
et  caustique."  "  Sa  conversation,"  he  observes,  "  etait  animee 
et  spirituelle ;  son  caractere  jovial  mais  capricieux  et  inegal,  con- 
sequence uaturel  d'un  temperament  irritable  et  d'un  mauvais  etat 
de  sante  habituelle,"  and  he  declares  him  a  ^^ pla glare  ^^  who 
arranged  "sa  mosaique  avec  tant  dfart.^^*  A  more  discrim- 
inating and  true  portrait  of  Sterne  by  a  foreign  critic  can  scarcely 
be  imagined. 

The  vagrant  boyhood  of  Sterne,  as  the  offspring  of  an  army 
officer,  his  school-days  in  Yorkshire,  followed  by  the  academical 
training  of  Cambridge,  and  twenty  years  of  clerical  life,  such  as 
it  was  in  his  day,  when  desultory  reading,  field  sports,  and  gossip, 
occupied  more  time  than  priestly  functions,  afford  sufficient  mate- 
rials for  the  kind  of  culture  and  the  knowledge  of  life  which  his 
■writmgs  display ;  and  if  to  these  resources  we  add  the  ordinary 
incidents  of  Continental  travel  and  the  habit  of  amateur  exercises 
in  music  and  painting,  we  can  easily  trace  the  external  elements 
that  constitute  the  framework  or  ingredients  of  his  books.  Their 
real  interest  was  altogether  derived  from  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the 
author.  These  were  at  first  inappropriately  confined  to  a  profes- 
sion for  which  he  was  singularly  unfitted ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  facts  in  his  career,  that  not  until  past  middle  life  did 
he  achieve  a  literary  reputation.  His  tendencies  of  character,  as 
well  as  of  mind,  were  utterly  opposed  to  the  office  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  irrational,  not  to  say  impious,  system  of  dispensing 
church  livings,  was,  for  reasons  altogether  factitious  and  worldly, 
bestowed  upon  a  man  who,  as  one  of  the  coterie  of  wits  about 
town,  of  courtiers,  politicians,  or  in  any  lay  vocation,  might  have 
left  a  reputation  comparatively  free  from  blame.  His  profession 
was  a  continued  reproach  to  his  levity,  and  has  caused  him  to  be 
judged  by  subsequent  moralists  with  severity ;  while  his  name 

*  Biographie  Universelle. 


336  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

has  become  a  standard  example  of  the  insincerity  of  authors  and 
the  illusions  of  sentiment  —  the  prototype  and  representative  of 
the  class  who  weep  over  the  corpse  of  a  donkey  and  at  the  same 
time  maltreat  their  wives. 

All  incomplete  characters  must  undergo  an  analytical  sifting 
to  separate  the  chaff  from  the  wheat ;  and  a  like  process  is  requi- 
site in  literature,  where  the  superiority  of  a  writer  in  certain 
particulars  is  modified  by  great  defects  in  others.  To  no  English 
author  is  the  careful  separation  of  gross  alloy  from  pure  metal 
more  indispensable  than  in  the  case  of  Sterne.  Time,  which 
shapes  reputation  as  well  as  the  less  abstraxjt  interests  of  humanity 
to  "a  perfect  end,"  has  abeady  effected  this  result.  A  few 
genuine  characters,  episodes  of  true  pathos,  sketches  of  life  drawn 
with  exquisite  art,  phases  of  delicate  sentiment,  pictures  traced 
and  mellowed  with  remarkable  tact  and  beauty,  —  these  have 
survived  whole  pages  of  equivocal  morality  and  pedantic  display. 
Such  are  "the  Story  of  Lefevre,"  and  "  Maria,"  and  the  char- 
acters of  Uncle  Toby,  Trim,  Obadiah,  Dr.  Slop,  and  Shandy. 
It  is  the  originality  of  characterization,  and  finished  bits  of  humor 
and  of  sentiment,  that  redeem  both  the  writings  and  the  faiiie  of 
Sterne.  What  is  indecorous  and  obscure  is  rejected  by  the  lite- 
rary gleaner ;  and  the  tedious  digressions,  the  stolen  erudition, 
the  violations  of  good  taste,  and  the  artificial  expedients,  are  for- 
gotten in  the  occasional  triumphs  of  art  and  nature  which  the 
genius  of  the  author  produced  in  his  better  moments.  This  par- 
tial success,  this  obscure  glory,  is  a  striking  instance  of  the  truth 
of  Pope's  trite  maxim,  that  "  want  of  decency  is  want  of  sense." 

Not  a  little  of  our  interest  in  Sterne  is  historical.  The  vein 
he  opened  has  been  more  deeply  worked  by  subsequent  authors. 
Compared  with  the  later  essayists,  his  didactic  passages  want 
sustained  glow  and  point;  compared  with  succeeding  novelists, 
his  characters  are  deficient  in  variety  and  impressiveness ;  but  in 
his  speculations  and  his  pictures  he  has  produced  studies  of  char- 
acterization. Artistically  speaking,  few  English  authors  have 
proved  more  suggestive.  Without  elaborate  finish,  he  furnishes 
perfect  hints.  His  writings  are  to  others  of  the  same  order  which 
have  since  appeared,  as  the  cartoons  of  the  old  masters  are  to  the 
historical  pictures  of  their  followers.     In  the  long  array  of  the 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  337 

novelist's  creations,  ''  the  beings  of  the  mind  and  not  of  claj/' 
from  those  of  Fielding  to  those  of  Dickens,  we  linger  before  the 
few  but  well-defined  originals  of  Sterne  with  a  peculiar  sense  of 
their  human  signific{\nce.  Unideal  and  unimpassioned,  jet  distinct 
and  natural,  they  have  the  rare  merit  of  exciting  an  interest  with- 
out any  extraordinary  traits  of  adventures;  they  embody  the 
genius  of  humor,  reality  made  attractive  by  its  consistent,  habit- 
ual, minute  exhibition ;  they  are  like  the  best  Flemish  paintings, 
mellow  in  tone,  familiar  in  subject,  and  marvellous  in  execution, — 
true  to  Nature  in  her  quips  and  fantasies,  in  her  whims  and  every- 
day phases,  rather  than  in  deep  or  wonderful  crises.  In  his  way, 
Sterne  is  Shakspearian ;  and,  although  superseded  to  a  great 
degree,  he  keeps  a  hold  upon  intelligent  sympathy  by  the  origin- 
ality of  his  manner,  which  is  constantly  reproduced  in  popular 
literature. 

Indeed,  if  a  constant  though  unacknowledged  and  perhaps  often 
unconscious  reference  to  an  author's  scenes  and  ideas,  and  the 
frequent  imitation  of  his  style  by  subsequent  aspirants  for  literary 
distinction,  may  be  considered  as  a  reliable  test  of  originality  and 
success.  Laurence  Sterne,  notwithstanding  the  blots  on  his 
escutcheon,  occupies  a  permanent  niche  in  the  temple  of  fame. 
Indirect  memorials  of  his  genius  abound.  Ball  Hughes  modelled 
the  delectable  group  of  Uncle  Toby  and  the  Widow  Wadman  ; 
and  Leslie's  delicate  pencil  traced  Yorick  at  the  Glove-Shop. 
Travellers  who  land  at  Calais  daily  think  of  the  ' '  Sentimental 
Journey  "  as  the  porters  on  the  quay  vociferate  '■^ Hotel  Dessein;^'' 
and  advocates,  when  hard  pressed  to  combat  testimony,  allude 
magnanimously  to  the  impracticable  witness  by  quoting  the  inci- 
dent of  Uncle  Toby  and  the  fly.  '•  There  is  room  enough  for 
thee  and  me,"  is  the  most  convenient  of  philanthropic  evasions. 
The  schoolboy  early  learns  to  regard  Sterne  as  a  master  of  the 
pathetic,  through  familiarity  with  the  story  of  Lefevre  in  his 
well-thumbed  reader.  An  American  bishop  is  said  to  have  con- 
sumed whole  evenings  in  searching  the  Bible  for  the  sentence  he 
proposed  to  use  as  a  text  for  his  next  sermon,  "  God  tempers  the 
winds  to  the  shorn  lamb,"  and  to  have  blushed  when  he  was 
informed  that  the  author  of  that  gentle  and  endeared  saying  was 
no  other  than  the  most  indecorous  genius  of  his  own  order  j  and 
29 


338  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

a  celebrated  New  York  medical  professor  of  the  old  school  quoted 
Tristram  Shandy  so  habitually  in  his  lectures,  that  country 
students  used  to  ask,  at  the  bookstores,  for  "  Dr.  Sterne's  Mid- 
wifery." "  Shandean"  long  ago  became  an  adjective  as  signifi- 
cant and  common  as  "  Pickwickian  "  is  to-day. 

Among  the  popular  writers  who  have  either  directly  followed 
the  vein  of  Sterne,  or  profited  by  his  style,  are  Mackenzie,  Irving, 
and  Dickens.  Many  favorite  volumes  of  "Reveries,"  by  bach- 
elors and  others,  now  in  vogue,  are  of  his  identical  model.  The 
desultory  and  quaintly  simple  yet  learned  production  of  Southey, 
"The  Doctor,"  is  essentially  the  same  in  plan  as  Tristram  Shandy; 
Curran  imitated  Sterne  in  his  letters ;  while  a  still  more  remark- 
able evidence  of  the  popularity  of  our  author's  manner  may  be 
found  in  the  fact  that,  after  Sir  Bulwer  Lytton  had  run  through 
the  entire  scale  of  the  intense  school  of  novel-writing,  he  sur- 
prised his  admirers,  and  won  over  a  new  and  previously  antag- 
onistic circle,  by  producing  in  "  My  Novel "  a  work  of  fiction  so 
palpably  imitated  from  Sterne  as,  in  many  passages,  to  have  the 
effect  of  prolonging  the  key-note  of  his  sentiment  and  exhibiting 
a  rifaciinento  of  his  style. 

In  one  noble  mansion  in  London  is  his  bust  by  Nollekens,  and 
in  another  the  famous  portrait  of  him  by  Reynolds,  copies  of 
which  have  long  been  favorite  illustrations  with  the  disciples  of 
Lavater  and  Gall.  In  Old  Bond  street.  No.  41,  now  a  cheese- 
monger's, but  known  in  his  day  as  "The  Silk  Bag-shop,"  are 
the  lodgings  whence  are  dated  many  of  his  letters,  where,  accord- 
ing to  tradition,  he  finished  the  "  Sentimental  Journey,"  and 
where  occurred  his  melancholy  death.  In  the  burial-ground 
fronting  Hyde-Park,  on  the  road  to  Bayswater,  about  the  centre 
of  the  western  wall,  is  the  headstone  that  marks  his  grave,  set 
up,  as  the  best  of  London  guide-books  truly  declares,  "with  an 
unsuitable  inscription,"  by  a  "tippling  fiixitemity  of  Free- 
masons." 

The  most  interesting  problem  involved  in  his  career  as  an 
author  is  the  rank  he  holds  as  an  expositor  of  sentiment.  Critics 
have  viewed  him,  in  this  regard,  at  the  two  extremes  of  hypoc- 
risy and  sincerity,  of  artifice  and  of  truth.  In  order  justly  to 
estimate  Sterne  with  reference  to  this,  his  most  obvious  claim  and 


LAURENCE     STERNE.  339 

purpose,  we  must  consider  the  true  relation  between  human  feel- 
ing and  its  written  expression. 

Sentiment,  as  an  element  of  literature,  is  the  intellectual 
embodiment  of  feeling ;  it  is  thought  imbued  with  a  coloring  and 
an  atmosphere  derived  from  emotion.  Its  reality,  duration,  and 
tone,  depend  in  books,  as  in  character,  upon  alliance  with  other 
qualities ;  and  there  is  no  fallacy  more  common  than  that  which 
tests  its  sincerity  in  the  author  by  the  permanent  traits  of  the 
man.  It  may  be  quite  subordinate  as  a  motive  of  action,  and 
altogether  secondary  as  a  normal  condition,  and  yet  it  is  none  the 
less  real  while  it  lasts.  In  each  artist  and  author,  sentiment 
exists  in  relation  to  other  qualities,  which  essentially  modify  it 
while  they  do  not  invalidate  its  claim.  To  say  that  a  man  who 
writes  an  elegy  which  moves  us  to  tears,  and  at  the  same  time 
displays  the  most  heartless  conduct  in  his  social  life,  is  therefore 
a  hypocrite,  is  to  reason  without  discrimination.  The  adhesive- 
ness, the  conscience,  and  the  temperament,  of  each  individual, 
directly  influence  his  sentiment ;  in  one  case  giving  to  it  the  intens- 
ity of  passion,  in  another  the  sustained  dignity  of  principle,  now 
causing  it  to  appear  as  an  incidental  mood,  and  again  as  a  perma- 
nent characteristic.  United  to  strength  of  will  or  to  earnestness 
of  spirit,  it  is  worthy  of  the  highest  confidence ;  in  combination 
with  a  feeble  and  impressible  mind,  or  a  lightsome  and  capricious 
fancy,  or  a  selfish  disposition,  it  is  quite  unreliable.  In  either 
case,  however,  the  quality  itself  is  genuine ;  its  type  and  degree 
only  are  to  be  questioned.  Thus  regarded,  the  apparent  incon- 
gruity between  its  expression  and  its  actual  condition  vanishes. 

Sentiment  in  Burns  was  essentially  modified  by  tenderness,  in 
Byron  by  passion,  in  Shelley  by  imagination  ;  meditation  fostered 
it  in  Petrarch,  extreme  susceptibility  in  Kirke  White.  In  the 
French  Quietists  it  took  the  form  of  religious  ecstasy.  In  the 
Old  English  drama  it  is  robust,  in  the  Spanish  ballads  chivalric, 
in  Hamlet  abstract  and  intellectual,  in  "As  You  Like  It"  full 
of  airy  fancifulness.  Miss  Edgeworth  and  Jane  Austen  exhib- 
ited it  as  governed  by  prudence  and  common  sense  ;  Mrs.  Rad- 
cliffe,  as  rendered  mysterious  by  superstition.  Scott  delighted  to 
interpret  it  through  local  and  legendary  accessories,  under  the 
influence  of  a  sensuous  temperament.     In  the  Dantesque  picture 


340  THE     SENTIMENTALIST. 

of  Francesca  da  Rimini  it  is  full  of  tragic  sweetness,  and  in  Paul 
and  Virginia  perverted  by  artificial  taste.  In  Charles  Lamb  it 
is  quaintj  in  Hood  deeply  human,  in  Cowper  alternately  natural 
and  morbid,  in  Mackenzie  soft  and  pale  as  moonlight,  and  in 
Boccaccio  warm  as  the  glow  of  a  Tuscan  vintage.  Chastened  by 
will,  it  is  as  firm  and  cold  as  sculpture  in  Alfieri,  and  melted  by 
indulgence,  it  is  as  insinuating  as  the  most  delicious  music  in 
Metastasio.  Pure  and  gentle  in  Raphael,  it  is  half  savage  in 
Salvator  and  Michael  Angelo ;  severely  true  in  Vandyke,  it  is 
luscious  and  coarse  in  Rubens.  And  yet,  to  a  certain  extent  and 
under  specific  modifications,  everyone  of  these  authors  and  artists 
possessed  sentiment ;  but,  held  in  solution  by  character,  in  some 
it  governed,  in  others  it  served  genius  ;  in  some  it  was  a  predom- 
inant source  of  enjoyment  and  suffering,  and  in  others  but  an 
occasional  stimulus  or  agency.  "Who  doubts,  over  a  page  of  the 
Nouvelle  Heloise,  that  sentiment  in  all  its  tearful  bliss  was 
known  to  Rousseau  ?  The  abandonment  of  his  offspring  to  public 
charity  does  not  disprove  its  existence,  but  only  shows  that  in  his 
nature  it  was  a  mere  selfish  instinct.  The  history  of  philanthro- 
pic enterprise  indicates  the  same  contradiction.  Base  cruelty  has 
at  times  deformed  the  knight,  gross  appetites  the  crusader,  hypoc- 
risy the  missionary,  and  the  men  whose  names  figure  in  the 
so-called  charitable  movements  of  our  day  are  often  the  last  to 
whom  we  should  appeal  for  personal  kindness  and  sympathy. 
The  same  inconsistency  is  evident  in  that  large  class  of  women 
in  whose  characters  the  romantic  predominates  over  the  domestic 
instincts.  "  Confessions  "  form  a  popular  department  of  French 
literature,  and  are  usually  based  on  sentiment.  Yet  their  authors 
are  frequently  thorough  men  of  the  world  and  intense  egotists. 
It  is  this  want  of  harmony  between  expression  and  life,  between 
the  eloquent  avowal  and  the  practical  influence  of  sentiment, 
patriotic,  religious,  and  humane,  which  gave  rise  to  the  invective 
of  Carlyle,  and  the  other  stern  advocates  of  fact,  of  action,  and 
of  reality.  Meanwhile  the  beauty,  the  high  capacity,  the  exalted 
grace  of  sentiment  itself,  is  uninvaded.  We  must  learn  to  distin- 
guish its  manifestations,  to  honor  its  genuine  power,  to  distrust  its 
rhetorical  exaggeration. 

The  truth  is,  that  Sterne's  heart  was  more   sensitive  than 


LAURENCE      STERNE.  341 

robust.  It  was  like  ''  wax  to  receive,"  but  not  like  '^  marble  to 
retain,"  impressions.  Their  evanescence,  therefore,  does  not 
impugn  their  reality.  Perhaps  we  owe  the  superiority  of  their 
artistic  expression  to  this  want  of  stability.  Profound  and  con- 
tinuous emotion  finds  but  seldom  its  adequate  record.  Men  thus 
swayed  recoil  from  self-contemplation  ;  their  peace  of  mind  is 
better  consulted  by  turning  from  than  by  dwelling  upon  their 
states  of  feeling ;  whereas  more  frivolous  natures  may  dally  with 
and  make  capital  of  their  sentiment  without  the  least  danger  of 
insanity.  We  have  but  to  study  the  portrait  of  Sterne  in  order 
to  feel  that  a  highly  nervous  organization  made  him  singularly 
alive  to  the  immediate,  while  it  unfitted  him  for  endurance  and 
persistency.  That  thin,  pallid  countenance,  that  long,  attenuated 
figure,  the  latent  mirth  of  the  expression,  the  predominance  of 
the  organs  of  wit  and  ideality,  betoken  a  man  to  "  set  the  table 
in  a  roar," —  one  who  passes  easily  from  smiles  to  tears,  from 
whose  delicately  strung  yet  unheroic  mould  the  "winds  of  life  draw 
plaintive  and  gay,  but  transient  music ;  —  a  being  more  artistic 
than  noble,  more  susceptible  than  generous,  capable  of  a  shadowy 
grace  and  a  fitful  brilliancy,  but  without  the  power  to  dignify  and 
elevate  sensibility.  His  fits  of  depression,  his  recourse  to  amuse- 
ment, his  favorite  watchword,  ''  Vive  la  bar/atelle,^^  his  caprice 
and  trifling,  his  French  view  of  life,  his  alternate  gayety  and  blue 
devils,  attest  one  of  those  ill-balanced  characters,  amusing  in 
society,  ingenious  in  literature,  but  unsatisfactory  in  more  inti- 
mate relations  and  higher  spheres. 
29* 


THE  LITEEARY  STATESMAN 

MASSIMO  D^AZEGLIO. 


It  is  seldom  that  the  noble  aims  and  benign  sentiments  of  the 
genuine  artist  find  development  in  life.  His  efficiency,  however 
refined  and  graceful  in  itself,  rarely  can  be  traced  to  a  practical 
issue ;  his  dominion  is  usually  confined  to  the  vague  realms  of 
thought,  and  his  name  is  familiar  only  to  those  who  explore  the 
world  of  fancy  and  ideas.  A  rare  and  beautiful  exception  to  this 
abstract  career  of  the  artist  in  literature  was  recently  visible  in 
the  case  of  Massimo  d'Azeglio,  the  late  secretary  of  state  of 
Sardinia.  It  became  his  fortunate  destiny  to  realize  in  action  the 
dreams  of  his  youth ;  to  administer,  to  a  certain  extent  at  least, 
the  principles  which  previously  found  only  written  expression ; 
and  to  be  the  agent  of  some  of  the  political  and  social  ameliora- 
tions, which,  at  a  less  auspicious  era,  he  could  but  suggest,  illus- 
trate, and  prophesy.  We  can  hardly  imagine  a  more  elevated 
satisfaction  to  a  generous  mind  than  the  privilege  of  thus  making 
tangible  what  was  once  ideal,  carrying  into  affairs  the  results  of 
deliberate  study,  and  giving  social  embodiment  to  long-cherished 
and  patiently-evolved  truths.  To  feel  the  interest  and  realize 
the  significance  of  such  a  career,  we  must  compare  the  first  work 
of  the  gifted  novelist  with  the  last  discourse  of  the  minister  of 
foreign  affairs ;  and  trace  his  identity  of  opinion  and  sentiment, 
from  the  glowing  patriotism  of  '•  Niccolo  de'  Lapi"  and  "Ettore 
Fieramosca,"  to  the  reforms  which  have  rendered  Sardinia  the 
most  free  and  progressive  of  the  Italian  states. 


MASSIMO     DAZEGLIO.  343 

It  is  through  his  genuine  patriotism,  indeed,  that  D'Azeglio 
is  both  a  popular  writer  and  a  liberal  statesman  ;  his  fictions  are 
derived  from  the  same  inspiration  as  his  public  acts  ;  he  is  a  man 
of  the  people,  and  an  elRcient  and  honored  citizen  of  Italy,  bj 
virtue  of  a  love  of  country  not  less  remarkable  for  intelligence 
than  for  sincerity.  This  is  his  great  distinction.  Neither  to 
the  circumstances  of  his  birth,  education,  nor  experience,  is  he 
indebted  for  the  independence,  wisdom,  and  zeal  of  his  national 
feeling,  but  altogether  to  the  promptings  of  a  noble  heart  and 
vigorous  understandinoj.  This  eminent  trait  both  of  his  char- 
acter  and  his  genius,  his  intelligent  patriotism,  is  exhibited  with 
beautiful  consistency,  first  in  an  artistic,  then  in  an  argumenta- 
tive, and  finally  in  an  administrative  manner.  It  pervades  his 
life,  as  well  as  his  books,  now  finding  utterance  in  the  fervid 
words  of  an  ancient  Tuscan  patriot,  now  in  a  direct  and  calm 
appeal  to  the  reason  of  his  contemporaries,  and  again  in  the 
salutary  projects  and  unfaltering  purpose  of  the  ministerial 
reformer. 

In  the  history  of  Sardinia  tliere  are  obvious  facts  and  tenden- 
cies indicative  of  a  liberal  destiny ;  vistas,  as  it  were,  of  light 
athwart  the  gloom  of  despotic  rule,  and  low  and  interrupted  yet 
audible  breathings  of  that  spirit  of  liberty  and  national  progress 
now  evidently  becoming  more  permanent  and  vital.  The  nucleus 
of  the  monarchy  was  Savoy,  around  which  were  grouped  the 
fragments  of  several  states,  —  the  old  kingdom  of  Burgundy, 
and  remains  of  the  Carlovingian  and  Frankish  empire ;  but 
towards  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  its  individuality  was 
fixed  by  the  will  of  Count  Asmodeus  the  Sixth ;  and  by  the 
peace  of  Utrecht  it  became  a  state  of  Europe.  Although  the 
power  of  the  crown  was  unlimited,  the  government  was  admin- 
istered by  three  ministers,  and  the  succession  confined  to  tlie 
male  line,  the  assent  of  the  Estates  was  requisite  for  the  impo- 
sition of  new  taxes,  and,  while  the  nobility  formed  a  large  class, 
it  was  not  exempt  from  taxation.  The  traveller  who  visits  the 
church  of  La  Superga,  at  Turin,  and  muses  over  her  buried 
kings,  will  recall  traits  of  royal  character  not  unworthy  of  the 
superb  mausoleum.  In  the  forty-three  years  of  his  reign,  Charles 
Emanuel  the  Third,  both  as  a  civic  and  military  ruler,  preserved 


344  .  THE    LITERARY     STATESMAN. 

a  high  character.  In  his  disputes  with  the  Pope,  he  successfully 
maintained  the  right  of  the  state  to  make  all  ecclesiastical  appoint- 
ments ;  and  the  concordat  was  confirmed  hy  Benedict  the  Four- 
teenth, in  1742.  The  new  code  of  1770  was  in  advance  of  the 
times,  and  the  country  flourished  under  its  provisions.  But  these 
incidental  advantages  were  not  sufficient  to  modify  the  natural 
influence  of  despotism  upon  the  character  of  the  people  ;  and  the 
acknowledged  superiority  of  the  Sardinians  in  vigor  and  breadth 
of  nature  is,  perhaps,  not  less  owing  to  local  and  social  circum- 
stances. Among  these  we  are  disposed  to  reckon  the  variety  of 
elements  that  constitute  the  state ;  it  combines  interior  plains 
with  mountains  and  sea-coast  —  the  fertile  levels  of  Asti  and 
Alessandria,  and  the  distant  island  of  Sardinia ;.  while  Piedmont, 
as  its  name  suggests,  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  Pennine  Alps  (in 
which  are  the  Great  Saint  Bernard  on  her  north),  and  of  the 
Grecian  and  Cottian  Alps,  including  Mont  Bl.inc  and  Mont  Cenis, 
towards  France  and  Savoy ;  in  the  direction  of  the  south  are  the 
Maritime  Alps,  separating  her  from  Genoa  and  Nice. 

Another  pi-opitious  influence  that  distinguishes  Piedmont  is 
the  existence  of  a  large  body  of  Protestants,  whose  contests  with 
the  Catholic  power  early  broke  up  the  monotony  of  prescriptive 
opinion,  and  tended  to  enlighten  and  invigorate  the  adjacent  peo- 
ple. Milton's  noble  sonnet  to  the  Waldenses  of  Piedmont  is  a 
familiar  memorial  of  their  heroism  and  sufferings.  Protected  by 
their  mountain  barriers,  they  defeated  the  army  of  the  Pope,  who 
lost  not  less  than  seven  hundred  men  in  the  stru<x2le.    The  actual 

CO 

efiect,  however,  of  so  complete  a  despotism  as  that  which  origin- 
ally invested  the  territory,  has  been  described  in  a  vivid  and 
graphic  manner  by  another  poet.  Alfieri,  in  his  ingenuous  auto- 
biography, gives  us  a  melancholy  picture  of  an  education  under 
royal  authority.  His  fame  is  one  of  the  redeeming  associations 
that  beguile  the  traveller  at  Turin. 

In  1798,  Charles  Emanuel  the  Fourth  ceded  his  whole  terri- 
tory to  the  French,  with  the  exception  of  the  island  of  Sardinia ; 
and,  four  years  subsequently,  abdicated  in  favor  of  his  brother, 
who,  upon  his  return  after  the  peace  of  Paris,  in  1815,  restored 
the  old  constitution  as  far  as  practicable,  readmitted  the  Jesuits, 
subscribed  to  the  Holy  Alliance,  and  established  a  rigorous  cen- 


M  A  S  S  I  M  0    d'  A  Z  E  G  L  I  0  .  .  345 

sorship.  The  next  year,  harassed  by  the  occupation  of  his 
kingdom  by  the  Austrians,  he  also  resigned  in  favor  of  his 
brother,  Charles  Felix.  The  Congress  of  Vienna,  in  1822,  pro- 
vided for  the  evacuation  of  foreign  troops ;  but,  before  three  years 
had  elapsed,  the  usual  enactments  of  arbitrary  power  crushed 
whatever  germs  of  a  liberal  policy  remained.  By  a  royal  edict, 
such  of  the  inhabitants  as  were  not  possessed  of  at  least  four 
hundred  dollars  were  forbidden  to  acquire  the  first  elements  of 
learning ;  and  only  those  having  a  certain  investment  in  the 
funds  were  allowed  to  enter  the  university.  Translations  of 
Goethe,  Schiller,  Wieland,  and  other  authors,  were  prohibited. 
From  time  to  time,  formidable  conspiracies  against  a  government 
so  tyrannical  were  discovered  ;  the  most  important,  that  of  1821, 
was  not  without  temporary  success,  since  the  regent,  Charles 
Albert,  was  compelled  to  swear  to  the  Spanish  constitution.  The 
spirit  of  the  age  and  the  lessons  of  experience  were  not  alto- 
gether lost  upon  this  prince,  whose  real  character  seems  but 
recently  to  have  been  appreciated.  We  can  desire  no  better  evi- 
dence of  his  sincere  love  of  country,  and  benign  projects,  than 
the  fact  that,  many  years  since,  when  comparative  tranquillity 
prevailed  in  Europe,  he  was  accustomed  to  hold  long  and  confi- 
dential interviews  with  our  representative  at  his  court,  for  the 
purpose  of  eliciting  information  as  to  the  means  and  method  of 
gradually  ameliorating  the  institutions  not  only  of  Sardinia,  but 
of  Italy. 

He  long  cherished  the  hope  of  giving  her  national  unity,  of 
combining  from  all  her  states  an  efficient  army,  and  thus  expell- 
ing the  Austrians  from  the  soil.  This  he  believed  to  be  the  first 
step  towards  a  constitutional  government ;  popular  education  and 
military  training  he  more  or  less  encouraged  in  his  own  domin- 
ions, with  this  great  ultimate  object  in  view  ;  and  he  certainly 
possessed  the  most  efficient  native  troops,  and  the  best-founded 
popularity,  among  the  Italian  princes.  Since  his  death,  impar- 
tial observers  concur  in  deeming  him  far  more  unfortunate  than 
treacherous  ;  a  reaction  has  justly  taken  place  in  the  public  esti- 
mation of  his  motives  and  career ;  and  no  candid  inquirer  can 
fail  to  recognize   in  him  a  brave   ruler,   who  gave  a  decided 


346  THE    LITERARY    STATESMAN. 

impulse  to  liberal  ideas,  advanced  the  Italian  cause,  and  became 
one  of  its  involuntary  martyrs. 

"  Yea,  verily,  Charles  Albert  has  died  well ; 

And  if  he  lived  not  all  so,  as  one  spoke, 
The  sin  passed  softly  with  the  passing  bell. 

For  he  was  shriven,  I  think,  in  cannon-smoke. 
And,  taking  off  his  crown,  made  visible 

A  hero's  forehead.     Shaking  Austria's  yoke. 
He  shattered  his  own  hand  and  heart.     *  So  best* 

His  last  words  were,  tipon  his  lonely  bed, 

*  I  do  not  end  like  popes  and  dukes  at  least,  — 

Thank  God  for  it.'     And  now  that  he  is  dead, 
Admittmg  it  is  proved  and  manifest 

That  he  was  worthy,  with  a  discrowned  head. 
To  measure  heights  with  patriots,  let  them  stand 

Beside  the  man  in  his  Oporto  shroud. 
And  each  vouchsafe  to  take  him  by  the  hand, 

And  kiss  him  on  the  cheek,  and  say  aloud, 

*  Thou,  too,  hast  suffered  for  our  native  land  ! 

My  brother,  thou  art  one  of  us.     Be  proud  ! '  "  * 

Into  this  amphibious  country, — as  Piedmont  is  quaintly  called 
by  the  Italian  tragic  poet,  —  into  this  kingdom  composed  of  the 
fragments  of  shattered  dynasties,  the  scene  of  religious  persecu- 
tion, the  heritage  of  a  long  line  of  brave  and  despotic  kings,  who 
adorned  it  with  magnificent  temples  of  religion  by  taxes  wrung 
from  an  ignorant  people  and  extorted  from  a  pampered  nobility, 
—  into  this  romantic  land,  crowned  with  Alpine  summits  and 
indented  with  emerald  vales,  —  a  region  memorable  for  many  a 
hard-fought  field,  ahd  which  boasts  the  home  of  Rousseau,  Alfieri, 
and  Pellico,  —  Massimo  d' Azeglio  was  born,  on  the  second  of  Oc- 
tober, 1798.  His  family  was  both  ancient  and  noble  ;  his  native 
city  was  Turin,  a  capital  so  near  the  confines  of  France  as  to  be 
more  exposed  to  the  influx  of  Continental  ideas  than  any  other 
metropolis  of  the  land.  A  more  vigorous  and  intelligent  race 
tread  its  streets,  and  a  bolder  peasantry  dwell  amid  the  moun- 
tains around,  than  belong  to  the  sickly  Campagna  or  the  Lazza- 
roni  shores ;  the  soldier  has  a  manlier  bearing,  and  the  priest  a 
franker  aspect ;  while  in  society,  not  only  the  language,  but  the 
enlightenment,  of  the  French  prevails.     At  the  cafes  you  find 

*  Mrs.  Browning's  "  Casa  Quidi  Windows.'* 


MASSIMO    DAZEGLIO.  347 

more  foreign  journals,  in  the  salons  a  less  antediluvian  tone ;  the 
mellow  atmosphere  of  the  past  which  broods  over  the  more  south- 
em  districts  is  here  scarcely  perceptible,  and  a  certain  modern  air 
and  freshness  of  life  immediately  strike  the  traveller  from  that 
direction,  as  he  enters  the  Sardinian  capital. 

Here  Azeglio's  early  education  was  strictly  private ;  he  then 
passed  through  the  usual  college  tuition,  entered  the  militia,  and 
soon  became  an  army  officer.  His  natural  tastes,  however,  were 
for  art  and  politics.  Accordingly,  when  sent  minister  to  Rome, 
at  a  subsequent  period,  we  find  him  assiduously  cultivating  the 
fine  arts;  and  in  a  short  time  he  became  a  skilful  landscape 
painter.  Here  his  latent  and  instinctive  taste  and  capabilities 
genially  unfolded ;  the  impressive  ruins,  the  treasures  of  the  Vati- 
can, and  the  companionship  of  artists,  continually  informed  and 
inspired  his  mind,  which  rapidly  and  gracefully  developed  in  an 
atmosphere  so  accordant  with  its  original  bias.  We  frequently 
have  occasion  to  remark  the  affinity  between  the  fine  arts  and  cer- 
tain departments  of  literature ;  and  seldom  can  this  relation  be 
traced  with  more  charming  effect  than  in  the  writings  of  D' Azeg- 
lio.  The  clearness  of  design,  the  felicitous  adaptation  of  the 
atmosphere  to  the  outline,  the  grouping,  scenic  descriptions,  and 
fidelity  to  those  laws  of  historical  perspective,  which  are  so  anal- 
ogous to  the  same  principles  in  painting,  all  unfold  themselves 
to  the  critical  reader  of  his  masterly  narratives.  We  feel,  as  we 
read,  that  the  best  preparation  for  that  species  of  literary  art  is 
the  discipline  of  the  accomplished  draughtsman  :  for  an  historical 
romance,  in  its  true  significance,  is  like  an  elaborate  picture,  sub- 
ject to  the  same  conditions  of  light  and  shade,  truth  to  fact  and 
nature,  and  harmonious  conception. 

D'Azeglio  delineates  in  language  with  a  patient  attention  to 
details,  a  wise  regulation  of  color,  and  a  constant  eye  to  unity  of 
effect,  which  we  at  once  refer  to  his  studies  in  the  Eoman  Acad- 
emy and  galleries,  and  his  familiarity  with  the  pencil  and  palette. 
It  was  not,  however,  until  the  maturity  of  his  powers  that  his 
genius  found  scope  in  language.  Before  he  had  acquired  fame  as 
a  novelist,  the  intrinsic  qualities  of  the  man  won  him  an  exalted 
place  in  the  estimation  of  a  circle  of  friends,  including  the  most 
illustrious  names  of  Lombardy.     On  his  removal  to  Milan,  in 


348  THE    LITERARY    STATESMAN. 

1830,  his  urbanity  of  spirit,  fluent  expression,  manliness,  and 
evident  intellectual  ability,  had  thus  gained  him  numerous  ad- 
mirers ;  and  Rossi  and  Manzoni  were  among  his  most  intimate  and 
attached  companions.  It  is  an  interesting  coincidence,  that  the 
destined  successor  of  the  first  of  Italian  novelists  became  his  son- 
in-law.  D'Azeglio  espoused  the  daughter  of  Manzoni;  and 
somewhat  of  the  domestic  pathos  which  gives  a  melancholy  charm 
to  his  principal  work  is  doubtless  the  reflection  of  his  own  sad 
experience,  for  but  a  single  year  of  conjugal  happiness  followed 
his  marriage,  his  bride  having  died  soon  after  giving  birth  to  a 
daughter. 

The  social  character  of  Milan  is  rather  literary  than  artistic ; 
and  it  seems  a  natural  inference,  that,  when  the  embryo  states- 
man and  clever  landscape  painter  exchanged  the  Eternal  City  for 
the  Lombard  capital,  and  found  himself  in  the  centre  of  a  distin- 
guished group  of  patriotic  men  of  letters,  the  chief  of  whom  was 
bound  to  him  by  ties  of  family  as  well  as  sympathy  of  taste,  he 
should  catch  the  spirit  of  authorship,  and  seek  to  embody  in  that 
form  the  knowledge  acquired  in  another  field,  and  the  aspirations 
that  craved  more  emphatic  utterance  than  could  be  expressed  by 
the  silent  canvas.  In  1833,  therefore,  appeared  "  Ettore  Fiera- 
mosca,  or  the  Challenge  of  Barletta,"  the  best  Italian  historical 
romance  since  the  "Promessi  Sposi."  Its  easy  and  copious  style, 
its  truth  of  description  and  distinct  characterization,  the  simplicity 
of  its  plot,  and,  above  all,  the  thoroughly  Italian  nature  of  the 
argument,  instantly  established  its  popularity.  The  incident  upon 
which  the  story  is  founded  is  as  familiar  to  the  historical  reader 
as  it  is  memorable  in  the  annals  of  Italy ;  —  that  of  a  drawn  bat- 
tle between  thirteen  Italian  and  the  same  number  of  French 
knights,  occasioned  by  the  challenge  of  the  former,  for  an  impu- 
tation cast  upon  their  national  bravery  by  one  of  the  latter. 
Sanctioned  as  was  the  encounter  by  the  leaders  of  both  armies, 
witnessed  by  a  large  concourse,  including  citizens  and  soldiers  of 
France,  Spain,  and  Italy,  —  the  ferocious  zeal  of  the  combatants, 
the  duration  of  the  struggle,  the  patriotic  as  well  as  individual 
sense  of  honor  involved,  and,  finally,  the  signal  triumph  of  the 
Italian  arms,  combine  to  render  the  scene  one  of  intense  interest 


MASSIMO   d'azeglio.  349 

D' Azeglio  availed  himself  of  this  episode  in  the  earlj  Tj'ars  of  his 
country,  to  revive  that  sentiment  of  national  unity  which  so  many 
years  of  dispersion  and  tyranny  had  obscured,  but  not  extin- 
guished, in  the  Italian  heart.  From  the  records  of  the  past  he 
thus  evoked  the  spirit  so  requisite  to  consecrate  the  present.  Et- 
tore  Fieramosca  is  the  ideal  of  an  Italian  knight ;  his  unfortu- 
nate but  nobly-cherished  love,  his  prowess,  beauty,  and  fiery 
enthusiasm  for  his  country,  his  chivalric  accomplishments  and 
entire  self-devotion,  beautiful  and  attractive  as  they  are,  become 
more  impressive  from  the  strict  historical  fidelity  with  which  they 
are  associated.  The  games,  laws,  costume,  turns  of  thought  and 
speech,  and  military  and  popular  habits  of  the  era,  are  scrupu- 
lously given.  Among  the  characters  introduced  arc  Caesar  Bor- 
gia and  Vittoria  Colonna,  names  that  eloquently  tj^pify  the  two 
extremes  of  Italian  character,  —  the  integrity  of  which,  in  its 
villany  and  its  virtue,  is  admirably  preserved ;  the  ecclesiastic, 
the  inn-keeper,  the  man-at-arms,  the  gossiping  citizen,  and  the 
prince  of  that  day,  are  portrayed  to  the  life.  Many  of  the  local 
scenes  described  have  the  clearness  of  outline  and  the  vividness 
of  tint  which  make  them  permanent  reminiscences  to  the  contem- 
plative reader,  and  have  associated  them  in  the  minds  of  his  coun- 
trymen with  the  hero  of  D' Azeglio' s  romance  and  the  sentiment 
of  national  honor. 

In  1841  appeared  "  Nicolo  di  Lapi,"  the  work  which  estab- 
lished D'Azeglio's  fame  as  a  literary  artist  and  a  man  of  decided 
genius.  The  same  patriotic  instinct  guided  his  pen  as  in  his  pre- 
vious enterprise ;  but  the  design  was  more  elaborate  and  finished, 
and  the  conception  wrought  out  through  more  extensive  research 
and  a  higher  degree  of  feeling.  The  time  chosen  is  that  terrible 
epoch  when  Florence  defended  herself  alone  against  the  arms  of 
Clement  the  Seventh  and  Charles  the  Fifth.  In  his  account  of 
the  siege  of  1529-30,  he  follows  Varchi  in  regard  to  the  promi- 
nent external  facts ;  but  into  the  partial  and  imperfect  record  of 
the  historian  he  breathed  the  life  of  nature  and  tradition.  For 
this  purpose,  the  documents  of  the  age  were  assiduously  collated ; 
the  monuments,  walls,  and  towers  of  Florence  interrogated ;  the 
bastions  of  Saint  Miniato,  the  palaces  of  the  Medici  and  Pazzi, 
the  Bargello,  the  piazza,  ancient  private  dwellings  —  the  courts 
30 


350  THE     LITERARY     STATESMAN. 

and  staircases,  the  portraits  and  legends  —  every  tradition  and 
memorial  of  the  period,  examined,  to  acquire  the  requisite  scenic 
and  local  material,  which  are  wrought  up  with  such  authentic 
minuteness  as  to  form  a  complete  picture,  and  one  which  the 
observation  of  every  visitor  to  the  Tuscan  capital  at  once  and 
entirely  recognizes. 

Nor  has  he  bestowed  less  care  upon  the  spirit  and  action  of 
his  romance.  The  people,  as  they  once  existed,  in  all  their  orig- 
inal efficiency  and  individual  character,  are  reproduced,  as  they 
then  lived,  thought,  suffered,  and  battled,  after  three  hundred 
years  of  internal  agitation  and  wars,  proving  themselves  adequate 
to  cope  at  once  with  both  Emperor  and  Pope,  and  falling  at  last 
rather  through  treachery  than  conquest.  The  very  atmosphere 
of  those  times  seems  to  float  around  us  as  we  read.  The  repub- 
lic lives  in  its  original  vigor.  We  realize  the  events  of  history 
reanimated  by  the  fire  of  poetic  invention.  Niccolo  is  the  ideal 
of  an  Italian  patriot,  as  Fieramosca  is  of  a  knight.  There  is  a 
Lear-like  solemnity  in  his  vehement  passion  and  religious  self- 
control,  a  Marino  Faliero  dignity  in  his  political  ruin.  Th*e 
consistent  earnestness  of  his  character,  the  wisdom  and  majesty, 
the  fierce  indignation  and  holy  resignation,  the  high  counsels  and 
serene  martyrdom  of  the  venerable  patriot,  are  at.  once  exalted 
and  touching.  Depressed  by  existing  degeneracy,  D' Azeglio  seems 
to  have  evoked  this  noble  example  from  the  past  to  revive  the 
dormant  hopes  and  elevate  the  national  sentiment  of  his  country- 
men. Around  this  grand  central  figure  he  has  grouped,  with 
rare  skill  and  marvellous  effect,  a  number  of  historical  person- 
ages and  domestic  characters,  whose  words,  acts,  and  appearance, 
give  distinct  reality  and  dramatic  effect  to  the  whole  conception. 
It  is  enough  to  mention  Savonarola,  Feruccio,  and  Malatesta, — 
the  reformer,  the  soldier,  and  the  civic  ruler, —  all  reproduced 
with  accuracy,  and  their  agency  upon  the  spirit  of  the  age  and 
the  course  of  events  suggested  with  consummate  tact. 

From  the  intensely  exciting  scenes  enacted  in  the  camp,  around 
the  walls  of  the  besieged  city,  on  the  bastions,  in  the  cabinet,  and 
at  Yolterra,  we  are  suddenly  transported  to  the  home  of  Lapi, 
and  witness  the  domestic  life  of  the  age.  The  family  portraits 
are  exquisitely  discriminated;  Lisa  and   Laodamia  are  two  of 


MASSIMO     D     AZEGLIO.  351 

those  finely  contrasted  and  beautifully  conceived  female  charac- 
ters which,  like  Scott's  Minna  and  Brenda,  leave  a  Shakspearian 
identity  of  impression  on  the  reader's  mind.  Lamberto  is  a  fine 
type  of  the  youth  of  Tuscany ;  Troilo,  of  Italian  duplicity ;  and 
Bindo,  of  a  younger  son,  beloved  and  brave  ;  while  the  struggle 
between  monastic  and  martial  impulses,  so  characteristic  of  the 
epoch,  is  vividly  depicted  in  Fanfulla.  Selvaggia  is,  also,  a  rep- 
resentative, both  in  her  wild  career  and  her  genuine  penitence,  of 
a  species  native  to  the  soil. 

As  Kuskin  studied  the  architecture  of  Venice  to  fix  dates  and 
analyze  combinations,  D'Azeglio  appears  to  have  scrutinized  the 
art,  literature,  and  monuments,  of  Florence,  to  gather  the  varied 
and  legitimate  elements  which  compose  this  work.  He  catches 
the  voice  of  faction,  and  prolongs  its  echo ;  he  paints  the  edifice 
until  it  stands  visibly  before  the  imagination  or  the  memory.  He 
reveals  the  mood  of  the  patriot  and  the  lover,  so  that  we  share 
its  deep  emotion,  and  leads  us,  as  it  were,  through  the  streets  of 
the  besieged  city,  to  the  bedside  of  the  tender  maiden  and  the 
\ngil  of  the  anxious  citizen,  till  the  objects  and  spirit  of  the  age 
and  people  become,  through  sympathy  and  observation,  like  con- 
scious realities.  Among  the  incidental  merits  of  this  work  may 
also  be  reckoned  its  philosophic  insight,  exhibited  not  only  in  a 
fine  study  of  the  laws  of  character,  but  in  the  influence  of  polit- 
ical opinion  upon  domestic  life,  the  conflict  between  patriotic  and 
personal  sentiment,  the  local  agency  of  institutions,  and  the 
mutual  relation  of  military  and  religious  enthusiasm.  Nor  can 
we  fail  to  perceive,  throughout,  the  singular  advantages  enjoyed 
by  the  historical  novelist  in  Italy,  finding  in  her  works  of  art,  her 
temples,  palaces,  and  libraries,  the  most  significant,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  authentic  hints  and  glimpses  of  the  life  of  the  past. 
Many  exquisite  touches  of  picturesque  or  suggestive  limning,  such 
as  mark  the  patient  explorer  and  the  observant  artist,  occur  in 
'•  Niccolo  de  Lapi."  But  if  to  these  characteristics  the  work 
owe^  much  of  its  immediate  popularity,  and  not  a  little  of  its 
intrinsic  interest,  the  standard  literary  value  attached  to  it  is,  in 
no  small  degree,  derived  from  the  style.  The  language  of 
D'Azeglio  is  terse,  flowing,  and  appropriate.  He  writes  in  a 
calm  though  fervent  spirit ;   his  tone  is  chastened  and  intense ; 


352  THE     LITERARY     STATESMAN. 

and  he  uses  words  with  a  keen  sense  of  their  meaning  and  delicate 
adaptation.  He  has  drawn  a  picture  of  the  age,  not  onlj  alive 
with  moral  sentiment  and  warmed  bj  patriotic  emotion,  but  so  man- 
aged as  to  excite  profound  respect  as  well  as  earnest  sjmpatliy ; 
to  blend  in  harmonious  contrast  the  ofl5ce  of  historian  and  poet. 

Indeed,  D'Azeglio's  great  distinction  is  a  certain  moderation, 
judgment,  and  rational  view  of  the  prospects  and  needs  of  his 
country,  rarelj  found  in  unison  with  so  much  zeal  and  genius.  He 
early  manifested  this  trait  in  habits  of  study  and  investigation,  and 
has  since  and  always  been  true  to  himself  in  this  regard  as  a  man 
of  action.  It  is  on  account  of  his  excellent  sense,  logical  power, 
and  reverence  for  truth,  that  he  has  so  eminently  succeeded  both 
as  an  artist  and  a  statesman.  No  better  proof  of  his  superiority  to 
the  mass  of  revolutionists  can  be  desired,  than  the  sentiments  and 
arguments  of  his  well-known  political  essay  induced  by  the  occur- 
rences in  Romagna  in  the  autumn  of  1845.  He  there  states, 
without  the  least  fanaticism  or  exafrnreration,  the  real  state  of  the 
case,  and  points  out  clearly  and  justly  the  reforms  necessary  in  the 
Pontifical  States.  He  rebukes  all  premature  and  ill-considered 
measures  on  the  part  of  the  oppressed  people,  as  only  calculated 
to  postpone  their  enfranchisement  and  prejudice  their  cause.  He 
wisely  advocates  gradual  enlightenment,  and  eloquently  describes 
the  fatal  consequences  of  rash  and  ignorant  movements. 

He  gives  a  plain  and  authentic  statement  of  facts  to  show  the 
utter  impolicy,  as  well  as  inhumanity,  of  secret  prosecutions,  of 
resort  to  foreign  arms,  base  espionage,  a  contraband  system,  cen- 
sorship, and  an  inconsistent  and  unreliable  code,  and  all  the  other 
flagrant  evils  of  papal  sway  ;  and  while  thus  effectively  reproach- 
ing the  government,  he  is  equally  indignant  and  impartial  in  his 
condemnation  of  reckless  agitators  and  precipitate  heroes,  who  not 
only  vainly  sacrifice  themselves,  but  bring  into  fatal  disrepute 
more  judicious  patriots.  D'Azeglio  comprehends  the  inevittible 
agency  of  public  sentiment  as  a  means  of  national  redemption. 
He  understands  the  Italian  character,  and  points  out  the  differ- 
ence between  animal  and  civic  courage.  He  thinks  fools  as 
dangerous  as  knaves  to  the  cause  of  freedom  ;  shows  the  need  of 
political  education ;  pleads  for  a  due  regard  to  time,  opportunity, 
and  means,  in  order,  to  secure  permanent  advantage-;  and  declares 


MASSIMO     D     AZEGiblO.  358 

that  the  great  lesson  his  countrymen  have  to  learn  is  to  ayoid  the 
two  extremes  of  reckless  despair  and  inert  resignation,  to  improve, 
to  hope,  to  prepare  the  way,  and  thus  gain  moral  vigor,  the 
world's  respect,  and  God's  favor ;  and,  while  he  demonstrates  the 
injustice  of  the  Papal  government,  he  w^ould  not  have  its  victims 
imitate  the  madman,  who,  in  flying  from  an  insect,  ran  over  a 
precipice. 

He  gives  instances,  on  the  one  hand,  of  the  decadence  of  the 
towns  of  Romagna  in  consequence  of  misrule,  and,  on  the  other, 
of  the  concessions  of  despotic  governments  to  the  consistent  and 
enlightened  appeal  of  their  subjects.  In  his  strict  justice,  he 
even  praises  Austria  for  her  administration  of  law,  compared  with 
the  Roman  tyranny,  that  makes  the  judge  and  accuser  one ;  and 
selects  from  his  own  state  an  example  of  treachery  with  which  to 
contrast  the  self-devotion  of  those  who  fought  at  Barletta.  This 
able  pamphlet,  entitled,  "  Ultimi  Casi  di  Romagna,"  is  one  of 
the  most  candid  and  thoughtful  expositions  of  actual  political  evils, 
and  the  only  available  means  of  overcoming  them,  which  a  native 
writer  has  produced.  No  one  can  read  it  without  sympathy  for 
the  oppressed,  indignation  against  the  government,  and  respect 
for  the  reasoning  of  D'Azeglio.  It  is  not  less  intelligible  than 
philosophic ;  and  subsequent  events  have  amply  proved  the  sound- 
ness of  its  arguments  and  the  correctness  of  its  inferences. 

If.  in  view  of  the  many  abortive  revolutions,  the  want  of  unity, 
the  influence  of  Jesuitism,  the  interference  of  France  and  Austria, 
and  all  the  other  antagonistic  conditions  that  environ  the  intelli- 
gent votaries  of  Italian  independence  and  nationality,  we  seek  a 
clue  by  which  to  thread  the  dark  labyrinth  of  her  misfortunes, 
and  find  a  way  into  the  light  of  freedom  and  progress,  what 
rational  plan  or  ground  of  hope  suggests  itself?  Only,  as  it 
seems  to  us,  the  practical  adoption  in  some  section  of  the  land  of 
those  political  and  social  reforms  which,  once  realized,  will  inev- 
itably spread;  the  successful  experiment  in  a  limited  sphere, 
which,  by  the  force  of  example  and  moral  laws,  will  gradually 
extend.  Let  the  capacity  for  self-government,  the  advantages  of 
liberal  institutions,  be  demonstrated  in  one  state,  and  they  cannot 
fail  to  penetrate  the  whole  nation.  A  few  years  since,  Rome 
seemed  the  destined  nucleus  for  such  a  change,  and  subsequently 
30* 


354  THE     LITERARY     STATESMAN. 

Tuscany ;  but  the  bigotry  of  ecclesiastical  power  in  the  one,  and 
the  grasp  of  Austrian  power  in  the  other,  soon  led  to  a  fatal 
reaction.  The  course  of  events  and  the  facts  of  to-day  now  indis- 
putably designate  Sardinia  as  the  region  whence  the  light  is  to 
emanate.  Favored,  as  we  have  seen,  by  the  character  of  her 
people,  her  local  position,  and  the  traits  of  her  past  history,  the 
very  disaster  that  checked  her  army  has  tended  to  concentrate 
and  develop  the  spirit  of  the  age  and  the  elements  of  constitutional 
liberty  within  her  borders.  The  loss  of  the  battle  of  Novara,  and 
the  abdication  of  Charles  Albert,  though  apparently  great  misfor- 
tunes, have  resulted  in  signal  benefits.  After  securing  peace  from 
their  adversaries  chiefly  by  a  pecuniary  sacrifice,  the  king  and 
citizens  of  Piedmont  turned  their  energies  towards  internal  reform 
Avith  a  wisdom  and  good  faith  which  are  rapidly  yielding  legiti- 
mate fruit. 

Public  schools  were  instituted,  the  press  made  free,  the  Wal- 
denses  allowed  to  quit  their  valleys, ,  build  churches,  and  elect 
representatives,  the  privileges  of  the  clergy  abolished,  and  the 
two  bishops  who  ventured  to  oppose  the  authority  of  the  state, 
tried,  condemned,  and  banished,  the  Pope's  interference  repudiated, 
the  riffht  of  suffrase  instituted,  railroads  from  Turin  to  Genoa 
and  from  Alessandria  to  Lago  Maggiore  constructed,  the  electric 
telegraph  introduced,  liberal  commercial  treaties  formed,  docks 
built,  and  cheap  postal  laws  enacted.  In  a  word,  the  great  evils 
that  have  so  long  weighed  down  the  people  of  the  Italian  penin- 
sula —  unlimited  monarchical  power,  aristocratic  and  clerical 
immunities  derived  from  the  Middle  Ages,  the  censorship  of  the 
press,  the  espionage  of  the  police,  and  intolerance  of  all  but  the 
Catholic  religion — in  a  great  measure,  no  longer  exist  in  Sardinia. 
Regarding  the  constitution  of  Charles  Albert  as  a  sacred  legacy, 
his  son  and  people  resolved  to  uphold  and  carry  out  its  principles; 
and  they  have  done  so,  with  scarcely  any  violence  or  civil  discord. 
Accordingly,  an  example  is  now  before  the  Italians,  and  within 
their  observation  and  sympathy,  of  a  free,  progressive,  and  enlight- 
ened government ;  and  this  one  fact  is  pregnant  with  hope  for  the 
entire  nation.  Only  fanatics  and  shallow  adventurers  behold  the 
signs  of  promise  without  grateful  emotion.  The  wise  and  true 
friends  of  Italy,  at  home  and  abroad,  welcome  the  daily  proofs  of 


MASSIMO      D     AZEGLIO.  355 

a  new  era  for  that  unhappy  land  afforded  by  the  prosperity  and 
freedom  now  enjoyed  in  Piedmont. 

It  would  be  manifestly  unjust  to  ascribe  all  these  propitious 
changes  to  the  personal  influence  of  D'Azeglio;  but  he  deserves 
the  credit  of  projecting  and  successfully  advocating  many  of  the 
most  effective  ameliorations,  and  of  having  been  the  consistent  and 
recognized  expositor  of  the  liberal  policy  of  the  state.  The  acces- 
sion of  Pius  IX.  was  greeted  by  him  with  all  the  delight  the 
hopeful  dawn  of  his  career  naturally  inspired  among  the  Italian 
patriots.  He  published  a  letter  full  of  applause  and  encourage- 
ment, and  had  a  long  and  satisfactory  interview  with  the  new 
Pope ;  and  when  the  bitter  disappointment  ensued,  he  carried  out, 
in  his  official  capacity,  the  sentiments  he  professed,  and  to  which 
Pius  IX.  was  shamelessly  recreant.  Like  Henry  Marty n,  in 
England,  he  proposed  the  emancipation  of  the  Jews  in  Piedmont, 
and  his  philanthropy  is  manifested  in  the  establishment  of  public 
baths  and  fires  for  the  poor.  He  took  a  bold  and  decided  stand 
against  the  Pope,  and  originated  the  treaty  with  England.  In 
his  address  to  the  Sardinian  parliament,  on  the  12th  of  February, 
1852,  he  expresses  the  noblest  sentiments  and  principles,  in  lan- 
guage of  simple  and  earnest  vigor ;  repudiating  what  are  called 
reasons  of  state,  maintaining  that  the  same  morality  is  applicable 
to  governments  and  individuals,  that  integrity  has  taken  the 
place  of  astuteness,  that  good  sense  and  good  faith  are  all  that  the 
true  statesman  requires  to  guide  him,  and  that  the  press  and 
facility  of  intercourse  which  enable  Turin,  Moscow,  and  Edin- 
burgh, to  feel  simultaneously  the  force  of  public  opinion,  have 
emancipated  rulers  from  the  narrow  resource  of  subtlety,  and 
induced  among  all  enlightened  governments  reliance  on  the  abso- 
lute power  of  truth  and  fidelity.  He  attributes,  in  this  masterly 
discourse,  the  peaceful  achievement  of  so  much  permanent  good 
in  the  state,  to  the  virtue  of  the  people,  the  prudence  of  the  legis- 
lature, and  the  loyalty  of  the  king. 

How  long  Sardinia  will  be  permitted  to  carry  on  within  her 
own  limits  the  progressive  system,  that  now  so  happily  distin- 
guishes her  from  the  other  continental  governments,  is  extremely 
doubtful.  The  asylum  she  gives  to  political  refugees,  the  un- 
pleasant truths  her  free  press  announces,  and  the  operation  of  her 


356  THE     LITERARY     STATESMAN. 

free-trade  principles,  occasion  the  greatest  annoyance  to  Austria, 
and  excite  the  sympathetic  desires  of  less-favored  states.  She  has 
incurred  the  permanent  enmity  of  the  Papal  see  by  suppressing 
the  monasteries  and  sheltering  Protestants ;  and  Count  Cavour's 
plea  to  the  allied  Congress  for  the  people  of  Rome  and  Naples, 
only  riveted  the  bonds  of  despotic  sympathy  between  their  cruel 
and  bigoted  rulers.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  expected  that  interference 
of  a  more  active  kind  than  has  yet  taken  place  will  not  be 
attempted.  Meantime,  however,  it  is  but  just  to  recognize  the 
noble  example  she  has  set  of  an  enlightened  self-government,  and 
to  award  the  highest  praise  to  the  generQus  and  judicious  states- 
man at  the  head  of  her  policy.  It  will  prove  a  remarkable  coin- 
cidence if  the  enterprise  recently  broached  in  New  York,  of  a  line 
of  steamers  between  that  city  and  Genoa,  is  realized ;  thus  uniting 
by  frequent  intercourse  the  commercial  emporium  of  the  New 
World  with  the  birthplace  of  her  discoverer,  and  opening  a  direct 
and  permanent  communication  between  the  greatest  republic  of 
the  earth  and  the  one  state  of  Italy  which  has  proved  herself  suffi- 
ciently intelligent,  moral,  and  heroic,  to  reform  peacefully  an 
oppressive  heritage  of  political  and  social  evils. 

The  efficacy  of  D' Azeglio's  patriotic  zeal  is,  as  we  have  endeav- 
ored to  show,  derived  from  his  knowledge  and  judgment.  Years 
of  exile  have  not  caused  him  to  lose  sight  of  the  actual  exigencies 
of  the  country.  Having  lived  alternately  at  Turin,  Florence, 
Genoa,  Milan,  Lucca,  and  Rome,  and  visited  all  parts  of  the 
peninsula,  he  is  quite  familiar  with  the  condition  of  the  people  of 
the  respective  states,  the  special  local  evils  of  each  administration, 
and  the  available  resources  of  the  nation.  Thoroughly  versed  in 
the  art,  literature,  and  history  of  Italy,  enjoying  the  intimacy  and 
confidence  of  her  leading  spirits,  and  practically  acquainted  with 
diplomatic  life,  his  views  are  not  random  speculations,  but  well- 
considered  opinions,  his  aims  distinct  and  progressive,  and  the 
spirit  in  which  he  works  that  of  a  philosopher.  The  beautiful 
emanations  of  his  study  and  genius  have  awakened,  far  and  wide, 
the  pride  and  affection  of  his  countrymen.  In  1845  he  com- 
menced, in  the  "  Antologia  Italiana,"  a  new  romance,  founded 
on  the  Lombard  league,  which  the  cessation  of  that  journal  and 
the  claims  of  official  life  have  obliged  him  to  suspend.     In  1848 


MASSIMO   d'azeglio.  357 

he  fought  in  Lombardj;  and  early  in  the  succeeding  year  an 
unostentatious  but  select  and  cordial  banquet  was  given  him  in 
Rome  by  his  admirers  and  friends,  to  congratulate  one  another 
on  the  new  hopes  of  Italian  regeneration  which  events  then  jus- 
tified. Of  late  he  has  retired  from  the  cares  of  office  and  the 
pursuit  of  literature,  to  devote  himself,  with  eminent  success,  to 
his  original  vocation  —  historical  painting. 

Through  all  the  chances  and  changes  of  the  times,  the  noble 
author,  and  statesman,  and  artist,  has  serenely  maintained  his 
faith  and  wisely  dedicated  his  mind  to  his  country,  emphatically 
giving  utterance  to  truth  and  reason,  both  to  fanatical  patriots 
and  despotic  rulers ;  to  the  one  demonstrating  the  inutility  of 
spasmodic  efforts,  of  guerillas,  of  inadequate  resistance  and  inop- 
portune action ;  and  to  the  other  calmly  proving  the  absolute 
folly,  as  well  as  wickedness,  of  a  total  disregard  of  the  spirit  of 
the  age  and  the  claims  of  humanity.  The  present  condition  and 
prospects  of  his  native  state  justify  his  arguments  and  realize  his 
dearest  hopes ;  and  it  is  her  peculiar  glory  to  have  had  at  the 
head  of  her  administration  not  oaly  a  liberal  and  wise  statesman, 
but  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  pt  triotic  of  her  own  sons. 


THE  GENIAL   CHURCHMAN 

* 

SYDNEY   SMITH. 


TnE  memoirs  and  correspondence  of  a  man  who,  for  twenty 
years,  was  prominent  in  London  society,  and  pointed  out  to 
strangers  as  eminently  noteworthy,  must  give  a  desirable  insight 
not  only  into  his  personal  gifts  and  character,  but  into  the  ten- 
dencies and  the  traits  of  the  circle  in  which  he  held  so  conspicu- 
ous a  place.  In  both  regards  the  volumes  edited  by  his  daughter 
justify  the  anticipation  they  excite.  Here  we  see  portrayed, 
ivithout  exaggeration,  the  best  side  of  the  Churchman,  —  one  of 
the  highest  places  open  to  clerical  ambition  in  England,  —  its  lus- 
tre enhanced  by  intelligence,  its  exclusiveness  redeemed  by  geni- 
ality, and  its  validity  vindicated  by  uprightness  and  public  spirit. 
We  recognize  the  influence  and  the  happiness  that  may  be  attained 
by  a  kindly,  conscientious,  fearless,  candid  dignitary  of  the  Estab- 
lishment, whose  nature  is  leavened  by  a  rich  and  persuasive 
humor,  whereby  his  oflSce,  conversation,  letters,  and  presence,  are 
lifted  from  technicality  and  routine  into  vital  relations  with  his 
fellow-beings  and  the  time.  Pleasant  and  suggestive  is  the  rec- 
ord, full  of  amenity,  and  bright,  cheerful  traits.  It  is  refreshing 
to  meet  with  so  much  life,  so  much  liberality,  so  much  humane 
sentiment,  where  the  conventional  and  the  obsolete  so  often  over- 
lay and  formalize  mind  and  manner.  Yet  there  is  a  distinct  limit 
to  this  satisfaction.  The  vantage-ground  which  ecclesiastical 
'prestige  gave  to  Sydney  Smith,  his  talents  and  agreeability 
confirmed ;  but  his  sympathies,  with  all  their  free  play,  had  a 


SYDNEY    SMITH.  359 

conservative  rebound.  Those  who  would  derive  a  complete  idea 
of  the  modern  English  development  from  these  memorials,  err. 
He  moved  in  a  circle  of  the  most  active,  but  not  of  the  highest 
intellectual  range.  We  should  never  discover  from  this  chronicle 
that  Coleridge  also  talked,  Carlyle  reasoned,  Lamb  jested,  Hazlitt 
criticized,  and  Shelley  and  Keats  sang,  in  those  days.  Within 
the  sensible  zone  of  English  life,  as  that  term  is  usually  under- 
stood, Sydney  lived.  He  often  ignored  what  was  boldly  original 
and  radically  independent.  His  scope  was  ever  within  the  AVhig 
ranks  in  politics  and  the  Established  Church  pale  in  religion. 
What  could  be  beheld  and  experienced  therein,  we  see,  but  much 
that  excites  admiration  without,  is  unrevealed.  The  iron  horizon 
of  caste  is  the  framework  of  this  attractive  picture.  The  charm 
it  offers  is  the  manliness  which  a  true  soul,  thus  environed,  ex- 
hibits. To  us  transatlantic  lovers  of  his  rare  humor,  it  is  the  man 
rather  than  the  priest,  the  companion  rather  than  the  prodigy, 
that  wins  attention. 

We  have  seen,  again  and  again,  genius  utterly  perverted  by 
self-love,  usefulness  marred  by  fanaticism,  wit  poisoned  by  malev- 
olence, health  shattered,  existence  abridged,  vanity  pampered, 
confidence  destroyed,  by  the  erratic,  unprincipled,  weak  use  of 
intellectual  gifts.  This  tragic  result  is  the  staple  of  literary 
biography,  so  that  prudent  souls  have  blessed  the  fate  which  con- 
signed them  to  harmless  mediocrity.  The  rare  and  sweet  excep- 
tions to  so  general  a  rule  are '  therefore  full  of  satisfaction  and 
redolent  of  hope.  In  the  case  of  Sydney  Smith  we  witness  the 
delightful  spectacle  of  a  mind  that  bravely  regulates  the  life 
which  it  cheers  and  adorns.  Humor  was  the  efflorescence  of  his 
intellect,  the  play  that  gave  him  strength  for  labor,  the  cordial 
held  by  a  kindly  hand  to  every  brother's  lips,  the  sunshine  of 
home,  the  flavor  of  human  intercourse,  the  music  to  which  he 
marched  in  duty's  rugged  path.  By  virtue  of  this  magic  quality, 
he  redeemed  the  daily  meal  from  heaviness,  the  needful  journey 
from  fatigue,  narrow  circumstances  from  depression,  and  prosper- 
ity from  materialism.  Ho  illustrated  simultaneously  the  power 
of  content  and  the  beauty  of  holiness.  Did  Portland  stone,  in- 
stead of  marble,  frame  his  hearth  ?  Innocent  mirth  and  a  clear 
blaze  made  those  around  it  oblivious  of  the  defect.     Must  a  paper 


360  THE    GENIAL     CHURCHMAN. 

border  take  the  place  of  a  cornice  ?  Laughing  echoes  hung  the 
room  with  more  than  arabesque  ornament.  Were  the  walls  des- 
titute of  precious  limning?  He  knew  how  to  glorify  them  with 
sunshine.  Did  he  lack  costly  furniture?  Children  and  roses 
atoned  for  the  want.  Was  he  compelled  to  entertain  his  guest  with 
rustic  fare  ?  He  found  compensation  in  the  materials  thus  fur- 
nished for  a  comic  sketch.  Did  the  canine  race  interfere  with  his 
comfort?  He  banished  them  by  a  mock  report  of  law  damages. 
Was  his  steed  ugly,  slow,  and  prone  to  throw  his  rider?  He 
named  him  "  Calamity"  or  "  Peter  the  Cruel,"  and  drew  a  farce 
from  their  joint  mishaps.  Wag  his  coach  lumbering  and  ancient? 
Its  repairs  were  forever  suggestive  of  quaint  fancies.  Was  a  herd 
of  deer  beyond  his  means?  He  fastened  antlers  on  donkeys,  and 
drew  tears  of  laughter  from  aristocratic  eyes.  Did  the  evergreens 
look  dim  at  Christmas  ?  He  tied  oranges  on  their  boughs  and 
dreamed  of  tropical  landscapes.  Was  a  lady  too  fine  ?  He  dis- 
covered a  "  porcelain  understanding  "  Was  a  friend  too  voluble? 
He  enjoyed  his  "flashes  of  silence."  Were  oil  and  spermaceti 
beyond  his  means  ?  He  illuminated  the  house  with  mutton  lamps 
of  his  own  invention.  A  Hit  woman,  a  hot  day,  a  radical,  a  heavy 
sermonizer,  a  dandy,  a  stupid  Yorkshire  peasant,  —  people  and 
things  that  in  others  would  only  excite  annoyance,  —  he  turned 
instinctively  to  the  account  of  wit.  His  houseliold  at  Foston  is  a 
picture  worthy  of  Dickens.  Bunch,  Annie  Kay,  Molly  Miles,  — 
heraldry,  old  pictures,  and  china,  —  in  his  atmosphere  became 
original  characters  and  bits  of  Flemish  still-life,  which  might  set 
up  a  novelist.  He  turned  a  bay-window  into  a  hive  of  bright 
thoughts,  and  a  random  walk  into  a  chapter  of  philosophy.  To 
domestic  animals,  humble  parishioners,  rustic  employes^  to  the 
oppressed,  the  erring,  the  sick,  the  market-woman,  and  the 
poacher,  he  extended  as  ready  and  intelligent  a  sympathy  as  to 
the  nobleman  and  the  scholar.  He  was  more  thankful  for  animal 
spirits  and  good  companionship  than  for  reputation  and  prefer- 
ment. He  reverenced  material  laws  not  less  than  the  triumphs 
of  intellect ;  esteemed  Poor  Richard's  maxims  as  well  as  Macau- 
lay's  rhetoric ;  thought  self-reproach  the  greatest  evil,  and  occu- 
pation the  chief  moral  necessity  of  existence.  He  believed  in 
talking  nonsense,  while  he  exercised  the  most  vigorous  powers 


SYDNEY     SMITH.  861 

of  reasoning.  He  gave  no  quarter  to  cant,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  bought  a  parrot  to  keep  his  servants  in  good  humor.  If 
warned  by  "excellent  and  feeble  people"  against  an  individual, 
he  sought  his  acquaintance.  His  casual  bon-mots  wreathed  the 
town  with  smiles,  and  his  faithful  circumspection  irritated  the  offi- 
cials at  St.  Paul's.  He  wielded  a  battle-axe  in  the  phalanx 
of  reform,  and  scattered  flowers  around  his  family  altar.  He 
wakened  the  sinner's  heart  to  penitence,  and  irradiated  prandial 
monotony ;  educated  children,  and  shared  the  counsels  of  states- 
men; turned  from  literary  correspondence  to  dry  an  infant's 
tears,  and  cheered  a  pauper's  death-^3ed  with  as  true  a  heart  as  he 
graced  a  peer's  drawing-room.  It  is  the  human,  catholic  range 
and  variety  of  such  a  nature  and  such  a  life,  that  raises  Sydney 
Smith  from  the  renown  of  a  clever  author  and  a  brilliant  wit  to 
the  nobler  fame  of  a  Christian  man. 

In  his  biography  we  have  another  signal  instance  of  the  effect 
of  blood  in  determining  character.  The  Gallic  element  perme- 
ated Sydney's  Anglo-Saxon  nature ;  and  in  him  it  was  the  vivac- 
ity of  Langucdoc  that  quickened  the  solemn  banquets  of  the 
Thames.  By  instinct,  no  less  than  from  principle,  he  encouraged 
cheerfulness.  He  thoroughly  appreciated  the  relation  of  mind 
and  body,  and  sought,  by  exercise,  gay  talk,  and  beneficent  inter- 
course, while  he  avoided  self-reproach  and  systematized  business, 
to  lessen  the  cares  and  to  multiply  the  pleasures  of  daily  life.  The 
minor  felicities  were  in  his  view  as  much  a  part  of  human  nature 
as  the  power  of  reasoning  and  the  capacity  of  usefulness.  In  his 
endeavor  to  make  the  most  of  life  as  a  means  of  enjoyment,  he 
was  thoroughly  French ;  in  loyalty  to  its  stern  requirements  and 
high  objects,  he  Avas  no  less  completely  English.  In  practical 
wisdom  he  resembled  Dr.  Franklin ;  in  the  genuine  benignity  of 
his  spirit,  Bishop  Berkeley ;  and  in  the  power  of  colloquial  adapt- 
ation, Burke.  He  sublimated  Poor  Richard's  prudence  by  tact 
and  wit;  and  called  himself  an  "amalgam,"  from  the  facility  with 
which  his  genial  tone  fused  the  discordant  or  reserved  social  ele- 
ments around  him.  "Some  sulk,"  he  observes,  "in  a  stage;  I 
always  talk."  He  was  no  abstract  scholar  or  isolated  sage,  but 
read  and  wrote  in  the  midst  of  his  family,  undisturbed  by  chil- 
dren, servants,  or  visitors.  His  idea  of  life  and  duty  was  emi- 
31 


S62  THE     GENIAL     CHURCHMAN. 

nentlj  social ;  and  in  this  also  we  recognize  the  influence  of  his 
French  descent.  The  names  of  friends,  acquaintances,  and  corre- 
spondents, in  these  volumes,  include  a  remarkable  variety  of  illus- 
trious characters:  first,  the  famous  Edinburgh  coterie  —  Plaj- 
fair,  Stewart,  Brougham,  Scott,  Alison,  Jeffrey,  Horner,  and 
their  associates ;  then  the  authors  and  statesmen  he  knew  so  inti- 
mately in  London,  such  as  Lord  Holland,  Lord  Grey,  Mackin- 
tosh, Rogers,  and  Moore ;  then  his  Continental  friends,  Madame 
de  Stael,  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  Talleyrand,  the  King  of  Belgium,  and 
many  more ;  besides  the  domestic  and  clerical  associates  incident 
to  his  position  and  family  corfnections.  Imagine  a  good,  cheerful, 
■wise,  and  endeared  man,  for  thirty  years,  mingling  in  such 
spheres,  dispensing  words  of  cheer  and  humor,  yet  always  in  ear- 
nest as  a  divine,  and  always  faithful  as  a  reformer,  and  you  have 
a  picture  of  intellectual  usefulness  and  enjoyment,  of  a  healthy, 
active  mind,  which  suggests  a  living  worth  but  inadequately 
described  in  these  volumes.  Scotchmen  and  Quakers  have  been 
staple  themes  with  the  English  wits  for  a  century ;  Dr.  Johnson 
and  Charles  Lamb  were  memorably  comical  about  them ;  and 
Sydney  Smith  continued  the  merry  warfare  with  credit.  In  each 
of  the  coteries  represented  by  these  idols  of  society,  we  find  that 
the  ''  mutual  admiration"  principle,  so  natural  to  special  frater- 
nities, holds  sway.  Johnson  over-estimated,  while  he  browbeat, 
his  literary  confreres;  Lamb  betrays  a  childlike  devotion  to 
Coleridge  and  his  disciples ;  and  Sydney  Smith  praises  Jeffrey's 
articles,  Horner's  character,  and  Mackintosh's  talk,  with  like  par- 
tiality. This  is  but  the  instinct  of  the  love  and  honor  drawn  out 
by  intimate  association;  but  such  verdicts,  in  a  critical  point  of^ 
view,  are  to  be  taken  with  due  allowance, — not  so  much  in 
regard  to  the  merits  of  the  individuals  thus  warmly  regarded,  as 
of  contemporaries  not  belonging  to  the  same  clique,  yet,  in  an 
intellectual  aspect,  having  equal  and  often  superior  claims  upon 
the  lover  of  genius  and  worth. 

As  a  representative  man,  Sydney  Smith  was  more  endeared 
for  his  liberal,  frank,  and  mirthful  nature,  than  for  its  refine- 
ments. He  lacked  that  profound  sense  of  beauty,  and  that 
patient  love  of  art,  which  constitute  poetical  feeling.  He  felt  no 
interest  in  Wordsworth,  thought  Madame  de  Sevigne's  letters 


SYDNEY    SMITH.  863 

beneath  their  reputation,  and  declared  himself  satisfied  with  ten 
minutes  of  Talma's  acting,  and  fifteen  of  observation  at  the 
Louvre.  His  passion  for  roses  seems  to  have  been  rather  a  keen 
sense  of  their  vital  freshness,  than  a  delicate  perception  of  their 
beauty.  They  were  precious  in  his  sight  chiefly  as  emblems  of 
the  spontaneous  grace  of  nature.  He  delighted  in  transitions 
both  of  scene  and  of  employment.  He  read  with  great  rapidity, 
skimming,  with  hasty  glances,  the  cream  of  literature.  He  had 
the  ingenuous  want  of  artificial  elegance  so  often  noticed  as  char- 
acteristic of  manly  genius.  "  Sydney,"  said  one  of  his  friends, 
"your  sense,  wit,  and  clumsiness,  til  ways  give  me  the  idea  of  an 
Athenian  carter." 

The  combination  "most  devoutly  to  be  wished"  is  an  alert 
mind  and  an  easy  temperament ;  but  the  two  are  seldom  found 
together.  Quickness  of  conception  and  aptness  of  fancy  are 
often  embodied  in  a  mercurial  frame ;  and  the  nervous  and  san- 
guine quality  of  the  body  is  a  constant  strain  upon  vital  force, 
and  tends  to  produce  the  irritability  of  a  morbid  or  the  grave 
errors  of  an  animal  enthusiasm.  Hence  the  most  famous  wits 
have  seldom  proved  equally  satisfactory  as  intimate  companions 
and  judicious  allies  in  a  serious  enterprise.  Imprudence,  impulse, 
and  extreme  sensitiveness,  thus  united  to  uncommon  gifts  of  mind, 
are  liable  to  make  the  latter  more  of  a  bane  than  a  blessing; 
while  the  same  endowments,  blended  with  a  happy  organization, 
are  the  prolific  source  of  active  usefulness  and  rational  delight. 
Seldom  have  these  results  been  more  perfectly  exhibited  than  in 
Sydney  Smith  —  a  pioneer  of  national  reforms  without  acrimony 
or  fanaticism ;  prompt  to  "set  the  table  in  a  roar,"  yet  never 
losing  self-respect,  or  neglecting  the  essential  duties  of  life ; 
capable  of  the  keenest  satire,  yet  instinctively  considerate  of  the 
feelings  of  others ;  familiar  with  the  extremes  of  fortune,  yet 
unhardened  by  poverty  and  unspoiled  by  success ;  the  choicest  of 
boon  companions,  yet  the  most  impressive  of  clergymen;  the 
admired  guest,  and  the  recipient  of  permanent  and  elegant  hos- 
pitality, yet  contented  in  domestic  retirement ;  born  to  grace 
society,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  idol  of  home  ;  feasted  and 
honored  in  the  highest  degree,  yet  true  to  his  own  axiom,  that  the 
secret  of  felicity  is  to  "make  the  day  happy  to,  at  least,  one 


364  THE     GENIAL     CHURCHMAN. 

fellow-creature;"  with  a  deep-seated  ''disgust  at  hypocrisy," 
while  recognized  as  the  bravest  advocate  of  Christian  charity  ia 
the  church ;  impatient  to  the  last  degree  of  the  irksome  and 
commonplace,  yet  unwearied  in  his  endeavor  to  assimilate  the 
discordant  and  to  enliven  the  dull.  In  him,  the  soul  and  the 
body,  the  family  and  the  fete,  labor  and  pastime,  criticism  and 
hilarity,  wit  and  wisdom,  virtue  and  intelligence,  priesthood  and 
manhood,  the  pen  and  the  life,  the  friend  and  the  disputant,  the 
mysteries  of  faith  and  the  actualities  of  experience,  "  worked 
together  for  good." 

Though  comprehensive  and  ficile  as  an  intellectual  man,  he 
had  the  insular  stamp,  —  the  honest  alloy  of  British  prejudice, — 
frankly  confessing  that  he  thought  no  organized  form  of  Chris- 
tianity worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  Establishment,  no  beauty 
or  genius  equal  to  that  which  the  best  London  circle  includes,  no 
physical  comfort  like  a  good  fire,  no"  restorative  like  a  walk,  and 
no  talkers  superior  to  Mackintosh,  Macaulay,  and  the  rest  of  his 
own  coterie.  His  praise  of  good  edibles  and  well-written  books, 
his  thorough  honesty,  his  manly  self-assertion,  his  want  of  sym- 
pathy with  foreign  associations,  his  keen  appreciation  of  dinner, 
tea,  argument,  and  home,  mark  the  genuine  Angloman.  Yet  he 
had  a  clearer  sense  than  most  of  his  countrymen  of  native  pecu- 
liarities. ''Have  you  observed,"  he  asks,  "that  nothing  can  be 
done  in  England  without  a  dinner?"  And  elsewhere  he  observes, 
'•  Mr.  John  Bull  disdains  to  talk,  as  that  respected  individual  has 
nothing  to  say."  With  the  courage  of  his  race  he  "passed  his 
life  in  minorities,"  and,  on  principle,  fought  off  the  spleen. 
" Never  give  way  to  melancholy,"  he  writes  to  a  friend;  " resist 
it  steadily,  for  the  habit  will  encroach." 

His  love  of  knowledge  was  strong  and  habitual ;  and  he  sought 
it,  with  avidity,  in  social  intercourse,  observation,  and  books, 
reproducing  what  he  gleaned  with  ease  and  acuteness.  His  style 
partakes  of  the  directness  of  his  whole  nature  ;  he  goes  at  once 
to  his  subject,  whether  the  exposition  of  religious  truth,  a  defini- 
tion in  moral  philosophy,  a  business  epistle,  or  "a  word  spoken 
in  season."  Without  circumlocution,  and  with  the  prompt  brev- 
ity of  a  man  of  action,  the  thing  to  be  expressed  is  given  out, 
interrupted   only   by  some   merry  jest   or   humorous   turn   of 


SYDNEY     SMITH.  S65 

thought  —  never  by  an  elaborate  or  discursive  episode.  Ilis  let- 
ters are  singularly  brief  and  to  the  point ;  they  indicate  character 
by  their  kindly  spirit  and  quaint  vein,  frank  opinions,  and  excel- 
lent sense,  but  are  valuable  rather  as  glimpses  of  his  manner  of 
living  and  thinking,  of  his  associations  and  objects,  than  as  a 
complete  illustration  of  the  man.  There  is  a  marked  individu- 
ality in  the  most  casual  note.  He  does  not  write  with  the 
rhetorical  finish  of  Macaulay,  the  quaint  introversions  of  Car- 
lyle,  the  voluble  knowledge  of  De  Quincey,  the  smart  ebul- 
litions of  Jefii-ey,  or  the  classic  elegance  of  Landor ;  but  he 
writes  like  an  honest,  sensible,  prosperous,  affectionate,  witty 
Englishman,  whose  views,  tastes,  and  principles,  are  fixed,  and 
who  desires,  without  waste  of  time  or  words,  to  meet  every  duty 
and  every  pleasure  in  an  intelligent,  self- sustained,  and  generous 
mood.  The  clerical  and  literary,  the  political  and  culinary,  the 
friendly  and  professional  interests  of  his  life,  come  out  in  singular 
juxtaposition  through  his  correspondence.  Now  it  is  a  state 
question,  and  now  the  receipt  for  dressing  a  salad ;  one  day,  to 
acknowledge  a  present  of  game,  and  another,  to  criticize  a  new 
number  of  the  Edinburgh  ;  this  letter  describes  a  dinner-party, 
and  that  a  plan  for  church  organization  ;  one  proposes  an  article, 
and  another  chronicles  a  tour  ;  the  whole  conveying  a  vivid  idea 
of  a  most  busy,  social,  amicable,  cheerful  existence.  After  dwell- 
ing on  the  entire  picture,  we  can  readily  believe,  with  his  little 
daughter,  that  ''a  family  does  n't  prosper  without  a  papa  who 
makes  all  gay  by  his  own  mirth  ;"  and  that  a  dinner  without  him 
appeared  to  his  bereaved  wife  unutterably  solemn.  He  declares 
that  a  play  never  amused  him ;  neither  Avould  it  half  the  world, 
if  there  were  more  Sydneys  in  social  life,  to  make  every  day's 
talk  "  as  good  as  a  play."  He  speaks  of  the  "invincible  candor 
of  his  nature,"  and  this  trait  is  the  crystal  medium  through 
which  we  so  thoroughly  recognize  him. 

Notwithstanding  the  deserved  rebuke  he  administered  to  our 
national  delinquency  in  his  American  letters,  he  vindicates  his 
claim  to  the  title  of  Philo-Yankeeist.  No  British  wTiter  has  bet- 
ter appreciated  the  institutions  and  destiny  of  the  United  States. 
He  recognized  cordially  the  latent  force  of  Webster,  the  noble 
eloquence  of  Channing,  and  the  refined  scholarship  of  Everett. 
31* 


366  THE    GENIAL     CHURCHMAN. 

''I  will  disinherit  you,"  he  playfully  writes  to  a  fair  corres- 
pondent, "if  you  do  not  admire  everything  written  by  Franklin." 

Perhaps  the  choicest  lesson  of  his  life  is  his  practical  cheerful- 
ness. He  was  no  willing  polemic,  but  delighted  in  "  peaceable 
bigotry."  One  is  constantly  lured,  by  this  memoir,  to  speculate 
on  the  relation  of  humor  to  sensibility  and  caution  ;  for  its  sub- 
ject was  as  prudent  and  methodical  in  affairs  as  he  was  vagrant 
and  lawless  in  fancy,  and  as  keenly  alive  to  sympathy  and  care 
for  others  as  to  comfort,  society,  and  fun.  "I  have,"  he  says, 
''a  propensity  to  amuse  myself  with  trifles."  "The  wretched- 
ness of  human  life  is  only  to  be  encountered  on  the  basis  of  beef 
and  wine."  And,  elsewhere,  "K,  with  a  pleasant  wife,  three 
children,  a  good  house  and  farm,  many  books,  and  many  friends 
who  wish  me  well,  I  cannot  be  happy,  I  am  a  very  silly,  foolish 
fellow,  and  what  becomes  of  me  is  of  very  little  consequence." 
This  disposition  was  not  merely  a  background  in  the  landscape ; 
it  made  him  a  light-hearted,  though  none  the  less  earnest  worker. 
The  sermon  inculcating  the  deepest  truth,  the  essay  demolishing 
a  time-hallowed  error,  the  plea  for  some  victim  of  oppression  or 
indigence,  the  letter  designed  to  counsel  or  cheer,  the  speech  in 
behalf  of  civil  reform,  in  fine,  the  entire  intellectual  activity 
of  the  man,  was  unalloyed  by  discontent  and  bitterness.  He 
could  wrestle  with  wrong,  and  smile;  he  could  attack  without 
losing  his  temper ;  he  could  sow  the  pregnant  seeds  of  meliora- 
tion, and,  at  the  same  time,  scatter  flowers  of  wit  along  the 
rugged  furrows.  Swift  fought  as  bravely,  but  he  lacked  the 
bonhommie  of  Sydney  to  make  the  battle  gay  and  chivalrous. 
Sterne  diverted,  with  like  ease,  a  festal  board ;  but  he  wanted 
the  consistent  manhood  of  Peter  Plymley  to  preserve  the  dignity 
of  his  ofiice  in  the  midst  of  pastime. 

Literature  has  gradually  merged  the  courageous  in  the  artistic 
element.  Style,  instead  of  being  the  vehicle  of  moral  warfare 
and  practical  truth,  has  degenerated  into  an  ingenious  means  of 
aimless  effect.  To  elaborate  a  borrowed  or  flimsy  idea,  to  exag- 
gerate a  limited  and  unimportant  experience,  and  to  minister 
exclusively  to  the  sense  of  amusement,  have  become  the  primal 
objects  of  popular  writers.  They  have,  in  numerous  instances, 
ignored  the  relation  of  thought  to  action,  of  integrity  to  expres- 


SYDNEY     SMITH.  367 

sion,  and  of  truth  to  eloquence.  They  have  dreamed,  dallied, 
coquetted  on  paper  exactly  as  the  butterflies  of  life  do  in  society, 
giving  no  impression  of  individuality  or  earnestness.  To  divert 
a  vacant  hour,  to  beguile,  flatter,  puzzle,  and  relieve  the  ennui 
of  thoughtless  minds,  appears  the  height  of  their  ambition.  The 
conventional,  the  lighter  graces,  the  egotistic  inanities  of  self- 
love,  so  predominate,  that  we  gain  no  fresh  impulse,  receive  no 
mental  stimuli,  behold  no  veil  of  error  rent,  and  no  vista  of 
truth  opened  as  we  read.  The  man  of  letters  is  often,  to  our  con- 
sciousness, not  a  prophet,  an  oracle,  a  hero,  but  a  juggler,  a  pet, 
or,  at  best,  a  graceful  toy.  We  realize  the  old  prejudice,  that  to 
write  for  the  public  amusement  is  a  vocation  based  on  unmanly 
pliancy  —  a  mercenary  pursuit  which  inevitably  conflicts  with 
self-respect,  deals  in  gossip,  and  trenches  on  the  dignity  of  social 
refinement.  Persoiial  contact  not  seldom  destroys  whatever  illu- 
sion taste  may  have  created.  We  find  an  evasive  habit  of  mind, 
an  effeminate  care  of  reputation,  a  fear  of  self-compromise,  a 
dearth  of  original,  frank,  genial  utterance.  Our  ideal  author 
proves  a  mere  dilettante,  says  pretty  things  as  if  committed  to 
mem.ory  for  the  occasion,  picks  ingenious  flaws  to  indicate  supe- 
rior discernment,  interlards  his  talk  with  quotations,  is  all  things 
to  all  men,  and  especially  to  all  women,  makes  himself  generally 
agreeable  by  a  system  of  artificial  conformity,  and  leaves  us  un- 
refreshed  by  a  single  glimpse  of  character  or  one  heartfelt  utter- 
ance. We  strive  to  recognize  the  thinker  and  the  poet,  but 
discover  only  the  man  of  taste,  the' man  of  the  world,  the  fop,  or 
the  epicure ;  and  we  gladly  turn  from  him  to  a  fact  of  nature,  to 
a  noble  tree,  or  a  sunset  cloud,  to  the  genuine  in  humanity, —  a 
fair  child,  an  honest  mechanic,  true-hearted  woman,  or  old 
soldier, —  because  in  such  there  is  not  promise  without  perform- 
ance, the  sign  without  the  thing,  the  name  without  the  soul. 

It  is  from  the  salient  contrast  with  these  familiar  phases  of 
authorship  that  the  very  idea  of  such  a  man  as  Sydney  Smith 
redeems  the  calling.  In  him,  first  of  all  and  beyond  all,  is 
manhood,  which  no  skill  in  pen-craft,  no  blandishment  of  fame  or 
love  of  pleasure,  was  suffered  to  overlay  for  a  moment.  To  be  a 
man  in  courage,  generosity,  stern  faith  to  every  domestic  and  pro- 
fessional claim,  in  the  fear  of  God  and  the  love  of  his  kind,  in 


S68        '  THE      GENIAL     CHURCHMAN. 

loyalty  to  personal  conviction,  bold  speech,  candid  life,  and  good 
fellowship, —  this  was  the  vital  necessity,  the  normal  condition,  of 
his  nature.  Thus  consecrated,  he  found  life  a  noble  task  and  a 
happy  experience,  and  would  have  found  it  so  without  any  Edin- 
burgh Review,  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's,  or  dinners  at  Holland 
House ;  although,  when  the  scope  and  felicities  they  brought  to 
him  came, —  legitimate  results  of  his  endowments  and  needs, — 
they  were,  in  his  faithful  hands  and  wise  appreciation,  the 
authentic  means  of  increased  usefulness,  honor,  and  delight, 
and  chiefly  so  because  he  was  so  disciplined  and  enriched,  by 
circumstances  and  by  natural  gifts,  as  to.  be  virtually  independ- 
ent, self-sustained,  and  capable  of  deriving  mental  luxury, 
philosophic  content,  and  religious  sanction,  from  whatever  lot 
and  duty  had  fallen  to  his  share.  Herein  lie  the  significance  of 
his  example  and  the  value  of  his  principles.  Like  pious  and 
brave  old  Herbert,  he  found  a  kingdom  in  his  mind  which  he 
knew  how  to  rule  and  to  enjoy ;  and  this  priceless  boon  was  his 
triumph  and  comfort  in  the  lowliest  struggles  and  in  the  highest 
prosperity.  It  irradiated  the  damp  walls  of  his  first  parsonage 
with  the  glow  of  wit ;  nerved  his  heart,  as  a  poor  vicar,  to  plead 
the  cause  of  reform  against  the  banded  conservatives  of  a  realm ; 
hinted  a  thousand  expedients  to  beguile  isolation  and  indigence 
of  their  gloom ;  invested  his  presence  and  speech  with  self-pos- 
session and  authority  in  the  peasant's  hut  and  at  the  bishop's 
table;  made  him  an  architect,  a  physician,  a  judge,  a  school- 
master, a  critic,  a  reformer,  the  choicest  man  of  society,  the  most 
efficient  of  domestic  economists,  the  best  of  correspondents,  the 
most  practical  of  political  writers,  the  most  impressive  of  preach- 
ers, the  most  genial  of  companions,  a  good  farmer,  a  patient 
nurse,  and  an  admirable  husband;  father,  and  friend.  The  integ- 
rity, good  sense,  and  moral  energy,  which  gave  birth  to  this 
versatile  exercise  of  his  fiiculties,  constitute  the  broad  and  solid 
foundation  of  Sydney  Smith's  character;  they  were  the  essential 
traits^  of  the  man,  the  base  to  that  noble  column  of  which  wit 
formed  the  capital  and  wisdom  the  shaft.  In  the  temple  of 
humanity  what  support  it  yielded  during  his  life,  and  how  well- 
proportioned  and  complete  it  now  stands  to  the  eye  of  memory,  an 
unbroken  and  sky-pointing  cenotaph  on  his  honored  grave ! 


THE  SUPERNATURALIST. 

CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN. 


The  memoirs  of  distinguished  men  suggest  to  the  philosopher       j 
the  idea  of  a  natural  history  of  the  human  mind;  so  like  the/    (^v^^s^i 
laws  of  instinct  is  the  process  of  development  in  each  species  of  j        l^'  ^ 
character.     The  influence  of  climate,  education,  and  political  and'^ 
social  institutions,  do  not  apparently  modify  the  essential  identity  { 
of  genius.     There  is  always  a  certain  similarity  in  its  experience, 
and  a  moral  verisimilitude  in  its  life ;  and  the  imprisoned  poet  of 
Ferrara,  the  domesticated  bard  of  Olney,  and  the  solitary  culti- 
vator of  imaginative  literature  in  America,  as  they  are  revealed 
to  us  in  their  familiar  letters,  and  the  anecdotes  preserved  of  their 
habits  and  feelings,  are  distinguished  by  the  same  general  char- 
acteristics.    Thus,  with  each,   life   began  in  vague   but   ardent 
dreams,  intensity  of  personal  consciousness,  and   indications  of 
ability  which  induced  those  in  authority  to  assign  them  the  law 
as  a  career ;  in  each  case,  their   gentle   and  earnest   spirits  re- 
volted from  its  technical   drudgery  and   tergiversation.      They 
alike  were  beset  by  Giant  Despair  in  the  form  of  bitter  self-dis- 
trust and  profound  melancholy ;  and  equally  owed  their  temporary 
emancipation  to  mental  activity  and  the  indulgence  of  the  affec- 
tions.    Love  and  fame  contended  for  the  empire  of  their  hearts, 
and  finally  achieved  a  kind  of  mutual  victory,  and  established  a 
holy  truce.     Their  difference  in  renown  is  indeed  great,  but  aspira- 
tion, insight,  and  the  love  of  beauty,  dwelt  in  each  of  their  souls, 
and  found  unequal  but  powerful  expression.     The  contest  with 


y 


370  THE     SUPERNATURALIST. 

fortune,  the  unswerving  assertion  of  individuality  of  purpose,  tlie 
life  of  the  mind  and  the  loyalty  of  the  heart,  distinguish  these 
widely-severed  beings,  as  they  do  the  nobility  of  nature  in  all 
times  and  places. 

It  is  an  affecting  reminiscence  to  look  back  half  a  century 
upon  the  enthusiastic  American  litterateur,  delving  at  his  self- 
imposed  tasks  alone,  in  the  midst  of  a  community  absorbed  in  the 
pursuit  of  material  well-being;  throwing  off  his  books  with 
scarcely  a  breath  of  popularity  to  cheer  his  labor,  and  finding  in 
the  vocation  for  which  his  mind  was  adapted  a  satisfaction  that 
required  not  the  spur  of  laudation  to  prompt  habits  of  industry. 
We  perceive  in  his  'vvi'itings  germs,  which,  under  more  cherishing 
influences,  would  have  expanded  into  glorious  fruits,  scintillations 
of  an  eclipsed  dawn,  breathings  of  a  premature  spring,  the  pledge 
and  the  promise,  as  well  as  the  partial  realization,  of  original  intel- 
lectual achievement. 

Charles  Brockden  Brown  was  the  first  American  who  manifested 
a  decided  literary  genius  in  a  form  which  has  survived  with  any- 
thing like  vital  interest.  His  native  fondness  and  capacity  for 
literature  is  not  only  shown  by  his  voluntary  adoption  of  its  pur- 
suit at  a  time  and  in  a  country  offering  no  inducement  to  such  a 
career,  but  they  are  still  more  evident  from  the  unpropitious  social 
circumstances  and  local  influences  amid  which  he  was  bom  and 
bred.  He  was  the  son  of  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends  in 
Philadelphia  —  a  class  distinguished,  indeed,  for  moral  worth,  but 
equally  remarkable  for  the  absence  of  a  sense  of  the  beautiful, 
and  a  repudiation  of  the  graces  of  life  and  the  inspiration  of  sen- 
timent, except  that  of  a  strictly  religious  kind. 

It  is  obvious  that  Brockden  Brown  could  have  found  little  that 
was  favorable  to  literary  aspirations  in  his  early  years.  Calm, 
prescriptive,  and  monotonous,  was  the  environment  of  his  infancy, 
except  that  it  richly  yielded  the  gentle  and  sweet  ministries  of 
domestic  ties  and  youthful  companionship.  Sustained  by  these, 
he  seems  to  have  fallen  back  upon  his  individuality  with  the 
singleness  of  purpose  characteristic  of  genius.  He  was  a  devoted 
student;  and  mental  application  soon  made  inroads  upon  his 
delicate  constitution.  By  the  counsel  of  his  teacher,  he  acquired 
the  habit  of  making  long  pedestrian  excursions ;  and  in  alter- 


CHARLES  BROCEDEN  BROWN.      371 

nating  between  books  and  walks  his  youth  was  passed.  His  ram- 
blings,  however,  were  usually  without  a  companion ;  and  thus,  in 
the  solitude  of  nature,  he  was  led  to  commune  deeply  with  his 
own  heart,  indulge  in  fanciful  reveries,  and  accustom  himself  to 
watch  the  action  of  the  outward  world  upon  his  consciousness. 
He  also  became,  from  the  same  causes,  abstracted  in  his  habits  of 
mind ;  and  when  the  exigencies  of  practical  life  roused  him  from 
tasteful  studies  and  romantic  dreams  to  grapple  with  the  perplex- 
ities and  arid  details  of  the  law,  he  recoiled  from  the  profession 
with  the  ardent  feelings  of  a  youth  accustomed  only  to  the  agree- 
able fields  of  literature.  He,  however,  persevered,  and  found  con- 
solation in  the  rhetorical  exercises  of  a  debating  club,  and  those 
branches  of  the  study,  commenced  at  sixteen,  that  gave  scope  to  his 
ingenuity  and  philosophical  taste.  To  the  disappointment  of  his 
friends,  however,  when  admitted  to  the  bar,  he  abandoned  the  idea 
of  practice  in  disgust.  Conscious,  perhaps,  of  inconsistency  and 
waywardness,  yet  tenacious  of  his  obligation  to  follow  the  instinc- 
tive direction  of  his  mind,  the  inactivity  and  hopeless  prospect 
incident  to  such  an  entire  change  in  his  plan  of  life  occasioned, 
for  a  while,  the  most  painful  depression  of  spirits. 

Both  his  talents  and  sensibilities  demanded  a  sphere,  and  their 
unemployed  energy  preyed  upon  his  health  and  conscience.  He 
sought  relief  in  change  of  scene,  and  visited  many  parts  of  his 
own  and  the  neighboring  states.  Under  a  calm  exterior  and  an 
apparent  indifference  of  mood,  he  at  this  time  suffered  the  most 
acute  and  despairing  chagrin.  His  kindred  and  companions  dis- 
approved of  his  course,  and  vainly  remonstrated  with  him ;  and 
thus  he  not  only  failed  to  please  those  he  loved,  but  was  thor- 
oughly dissatisfied  with  himself  In  1793  he  visited  New  York, 
in  order  to  unite  with  two  fellow-students,  between  whom  and 
himself  there  existed  a  strong  attachment.  With  them  he  formed 
a  pleasant  home :  and  soon  joined  the  Friendly  Club,  of  which 
Dunlap,  Dr.  Mitchell,  Bleecker,  Kent,  and  other  choice  spirits  of 
the  metropolis,  were  active  members.  In  their  society  his  lite- 
rary tastes  revived,  and  his  mental  energies  expanded.  Sympa- 
thy quickened  his  confidence  in  his  own  resources,  and  he 
regained  his  cheerfulness  and  activity  of  spirit. 

"  Wieland"  was  published  in  1798.     It  was  the  first  work  in 


372  THE    SUPER  NATURALIST. 

the  department  of  imaginative  literature  of  native  origin,  possess- 
ing indisputable  tokens  of  genius,  which  appeared  in  the  United 
States.  Its  author  died  on  the  twenty-second  of  February,  1810, 
having  just  completed  his  thirty-ninth  year.  His  subsequent 
fictions  were  unequal  both  to  each  other  and  to  the  first ;  but  all 
r^ontain  traits  of  reflective  power  and  invention  that  enlist  the  sym- 

^  Ipathies  of  the  intellectual  reader.  They  constitute,  however,  but 
a  modicum  of  his  literary  labor.  When  he  commenced  authoi*ship 
the  discussions  incident  to  the  French  Revolution  were  rife ;  and 
his  active  mind  soon  became  excited  on  the  subject  of  politics  ai^d 
social  philosophy.  His  first  published  work  —  if  we  except  occa- 
sional contributions  to  periodicals  —  was  a  Dialogue  on  the  Rights 
of  Woman,  said  to  have  been  unsuccessful,  though  ingenious ;  then 
followed  the  ^lemoirs  of  Carwin  —  the  basis  of  his  fictitious  compo- 
sitions and  fame  in  that  branch ;  but  in  the  mean  time,  throughout 
his  brief  career,  he  was  incessantly  engaged  in  some  kind  of  literary 
toil ;  editing  the  old  American  Monthly,  the  first  American  Re- 
view, the  original  Literary  Magiizine,  and  the  American  Register ; 
compiling  an  elaborate  geography ;  preparing  architectural  draw- 
ings ;  investigating  various  subjects ;  corresponding,  translating 
Volney's  work  on  the  United  States,  and  writing  a  series  of  polit- 
ical pamphlets.  Although  many  of  the  questions  thus  treated 
have  lost  their  significance  and  interest,  the  knowledge,  logic, 
good  sense,  and  general  ability,  manifest  in  the  political  writings 
of  Brockden  Brown,  are  thought  by  some,  not  incompetent  judges, 
to  be  as  remarkable,  in  view  of  the  period  and  circumstances,  as 
his  novels.  It  is  certain  that  the  two  exhibit  a  rare  combination  of 
practical  and  imaginative  capacity ;  and  evince  a  mind  disciplined 
and  prolific  as  well  as  versatile.  He  could  reason  comprehen- 
sively and  acutely  on  affciirs  as  well  as  on  emotion ;  and  discuss 
the  interests  of  commerce  and  government  with  as  clear  and  full 
intelligence  as  the  mysteries  of  love,  remorse,  and  superstition. 
But  it  requires  the  consummate  literary  art  of  a  Burke  and  a 
Godwin  to  preserve  the  carelessly-strewn  jewels  of  such  a  mind 
in  enduring  caskets. 
.  So  deficient,  indeed,  in  constructive  design  and  unity^^^pur- 

**         pose,  are  his  writmgs,  that,  with  the  exception  of  his  essays  and 
other  argumentative  papers,  they  resemble  the  sketches  that  litter 


CHARLES     BROCKDEX     BROWN.  378 

an  artist's  studio  more  than  elaborate  and  finished  works.  His 
fictions  might  aptly  be  designated  as  studies  in  Romance.  He 
left  many  fragmentary  narratives,  scenes  and  dialogues  —  some 
founded  upon  history,  some  upon  observation,  and  others  appar- 
ently the  result  of  an  inventive  mood.  xVt  one  time  he  had  no 
less  than  five  novels  commenced,  sketched  out,  or  partially  writ- 
ten. Architecture,  geography,  politics,  and  belles  lettres,  by 
turns,  occupied  his  attention. 

There  is  often  in  his  letters  a  curious  detail ;  and  he  possessed 
the  art  of  making  the  recital  of  trifles  interesting ;  while  the  logi- 
cian and  grave  practical  thinker,  as  well  as  the  sincere  and  ardent 
patriot,  are  revealed  by  his  spirited  treatment  of  public  questions. 
"Wieland"  was  the  most  powerful  story  that  had  appeared  in 
the  country ;  and  the  American  Register,  projected  and  com- 
menced by  Brown,  was  the  most  useful  and  appropriate  literary 
undertaking  of  its  day.  Like  most  gifted  men,  he  won  and  re- 
tained affections  with  ease ;  he  was  the  idol  of  the  domestic  circle, 
and  loyal  as  well  as  magnanimous  in  friendship ;  he  stood  man- 
fully by  his  comrades  during  the  fearful  ravages  of  the  yellow 
fever ;  and  his  letters,  while  they  aim  to  elicit  the  inmost  expe- 
rience and  outward  fortunes  of  those  he  loves,  are  remarkably 
self-forgetful.  He  lived  wholly  in  his  mind  and  affections ;  from 
a  child  devoted  to  books  and  maps,  and,  as  a  man,  congratulating 
himself  upon  that  fragility  of  body  that  destined  him  to  medita- 
tive pursuits.  Reading,  clubs,  pedestrianism,  journalizing,  and 
earnest  reflection,  were  the  means  of  his  culture  and  development. 
Like  the  author  of  the  "  Seasons,"  he  was  silent  in  mixed  compa- 
nies, but  alert  and  expressive  under  genial  mental  excitement. 
An  Utopian,  he  indulged  in  the  most  sanguine  visions  of  the 
amelioration  of  society ;  a  deep  reasoner,  he  argued  a  question  of 
law  or  government  w^ith  subtlety  and  force ;  a  devotee  of  truth, 
he  ardently  sought  and  carefully  recorded  facts  ;  a  wild  dreamer, 
he  gave  the  utmost  scope  to  his  fancy  and  the  most  intense  exer- 
cise to  his  imagination ;  careless  as  to  his  appearance,  unmethodi- 
cal in  affairs,  intent  upon  the  contemplative  rather  than  the 
observant  use  of  his  faculties,  he  yet  could  summon  all  his  pow- 
ers at  the  call  of  love,  duty,  or  taste,  and  bring  them  into 
efficient  action.  He  describes  his  sensations  at  the  first  sight  of 
32 


374  THE    SUPERNATURALIST. 

the  sea  with  the  enthusiasm  of  Alfieri,  and  sums  up  an  imaginary 
case,  as  president  of  a  law  society,  with  the  grave  reasoning  of  a 
Blackstone.  The  remarkable  feature  in  his  intellectual  char- 
acter was  this  union  of  analjrtical  with  imaginative^ower.  So 
contented  was  he''wlien~liis' literary  and  ^mestic  tastes  were 
entirely  gratified,  as  was  the  case  during  the  last  few  years  of  his 
life,  that  he  writes  to  one  of  his  friends  that  the  only  thing  which 
mars  his  felicity  is  the  idea  of  its  possible  inten'uption.  He  fell 
into  a  gradual  decline;  and  his  wife  declares  that  "he  surren- 
dered up  not  one  faculty  of  his  soul  but  w'ith  his  last  breath." 

A  prolific  English  novelist  expressed  his  surprise  at  the  discov- 
ery of  what  he  called  a  tendency  to  supcrnaturalism  in  our  people, 
having  always  regarded  the  American  character  as  exclusively 
practical  and  matter-of-fact.  It  seems,  however,  that  both  indi- 
viduals and  communities  are  apt  to  develop  in  extremes ;  and  that 
there  is  some  occult  affinity  between  the  achieving  faculty  and  the 
sense  of  wonder.  Shakspeare  has  inwrought  his  grand  supei*sti- 
tious  creation  amid  vital  energies  of  purpose  and  action,  and  thus 
brought  into  striking  contrast  the  practical  efficiency  and  spiritual 
dependence  of  our  nature.  The  coincidence  is  equally  remarka- 
ble, whether  it  be  considered  as  artistic  ingenuity  or  natural  fact ; 
and  probably,  as  in  other  instances,  the  great  dramatist  was  true 
to  both  motives.  The  more  strictly  utilitarian  the  life,  the  more 
keen,  it  would  appear,  is  a  zest  for  the  marvellous;  from  that 
principle  of  reaction  which  causes  a  neglected  element  of  the  soul 
to  assert  itself  with  peculiar  emphasis.  No  class  of  people  are 
kept  in  more  stern  and  continuous  alliance  with  reality  than  sail- 
ors and  the  poor  Irish ;  and  yet  among  them  fanciful  superstition 
is  proverbially  rife.  There  is,  therefore,  no  absolute  incongruity 
between  the  most  literal  sagacity  in  affiiirs  and  outward  experi- 
ence, and  a  thorough  recognition  of  the  mysterious. 

The  theological  acumen  and  hardy  intelligence  of  the  New 
England  colonists  did  not  suffice  against  witchcraft  and  its  horri- 
ble results ;  seers  flourished  among  the  shrewd  Scotch,  and  gypsy 
fortune-telling  in  the  rural  districts  of  England.  The  faculty  or 
sentiment  to  which  these  and  other  delusions  appeal,  in  our  more 
cultivated  era,  finds  scope  and  gratification  in  the  revelations 
of  science ,  and  so  nearly  connected  are  the  natural  and  super- 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN.      375 

natural,  the  seen  and  the  unseen,  the  mysterious  and  the  famil- 
iar, that  a  truly  reverent  and  enlightened  mind  is  often  compelled 
to  acknowledge  that  a  sceptical  and  obstinate  rationalism  is  as 
much  opposed  to  truth  as  a  visionary  and  credulous  spirit.  There 
is  an  intuitive  as  well  as  a  reasoning  faith ;  and  presentiments, 
dreams,  vivid  reminiscences,  and  sympathetic  phenomena,  of  which 
(prospective  natures  are  conscious,  indicate  to  the  calmest  reflec- 
tion that  we  are  linked  to  the  domain  of  moral  experience  and  of 
destiny  by  more  than  tangible  relations.  Hence  the  receptive 
attitude  of  the  highest  order  of  minds  in  regard  to  spiritual  theo- 
ries, the  consolation  found  in  the  doctrines  of  Swedenborg,  and 
the  obvious  tendency  that  now  prevails  to  interpret  art,  literature, 
and  events,  according  to  an  ideal  or  philosophical  view. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  in  the  history  of  American  letters,  that  the 
genius  of  our  literary  pioneer  was  of  this  introspective  order.  If 
we  examine  the  wi'itings  of  Brown,  it  is  evident  that  they  only 
rise  to  high  individuality  in  the  anal^sis_qf  emotion,  and  the 
descri£tionrqf,ajatcsjof_mind^  In  other  respects,  though  indus- 
trious, wise,  and  able,  he  is  not  impressively  original ;  but^  in 
following  out  a  ^'metaphysical  vein,  in  making  the  reader  abso- 
lutely cognizant  of  the  revery,  fears,  hopes,  imaginings,  that 
"puzzle  the  will,"  or  concentrate  its  energies,  he  obeyed  a  singu- 
lar idiosyncrasy  of  his  nature,  a  Shakspearian  tendency,  and  one, 
at  that  period,  almost  new  as  a  chief  element  of  fiction.  The 
powerful  use  made  of  its  entrancing  spell  by  Godwin  was  the 
foundation  of  his  fame ;  and  it  has  been  stated,  upon  good  author- 
ity, that  Brown's  mind  was  put  upon  the  track  by  "  Caleb  Wil- 
liams,"' and  also  that  Godwin  has  been  heard  to  allude  to  Brown 
as  a  suggestive  writer  in  the  same  vein.  The  consciousness  of 
the  former  was  the  great  source  of  his  intensity.  He  was  one  of 
those  sensitive  and  thoughtful  men  who  found  infinite  pleasure  in 
the  study  of  his  own  nature  ;  and  traced  the  course  of  a  passion 
or  the  formation  of  a  theory  with  a  zest  and  acuteness  similar  to 
that  with  which  a  geologist  investigates  fossils  and  strata  — 
delighting  in  that  which  suggests  limitless  relations,  and  touches 
the  most  expansive  circle  of  human  speculation.  Mrs.  Radcliffe  . 
understood  how  to  excite  the  superstitious  instinct,  but  il  wa^  by  i 
_melo-dramatic  and  scenical  rather  than  psychological  means.     In 


376  THE     SUPERNATURALIST. 

the  process  of  Brown  there  is  a  more  rational  mystery.  He  bases 
his  marvellous  incidents  upon  some  principle  of  truth  or  fact  in 
science,  and  keeps  interest  alive  by  the  effect  on  the  sympathies 
or  curiosity  of  his  personages.  He  identifies  himself  with  the 
"working  of  their  minds,  and,  by  casting  his  best  descriptions 
in  autobiographical  form,  makes  them  more  real  through  the 
personality  of  the  narrative.  He  has  been  called  an  anatomist 
of  the  mind ;  and  the  peculiar  natfffe  of  his  genius  may  be 
inferred  from  the  kind  of  influences  under  which  he  loved  to 
depict  human  nature  —  such  as  the  phenomena  of  Pestilence  in 
"Ormond"  and  "  Arthur  Mervyn,"  Somnambulism,  in  '-Edgar 
Huntley,"  and  Ventriloquism,  in  "Wieland." 

This  love  of  the  marvellous,  as  it  is  called,  in  its  ordinary 
aspects,  and  recognition  of  the  spiritual,  as  its  higher  phase  may 
be  defined,  is  common  to  the  least  cultivated  and  the  most  gifted 
of  human  beings.  Whoever  has  considered  the  speculations  of 
Shelley  on  dreams,  the  theories  of  Coleridge  in  regard  to  the 
action  and  reaction  of  life  and  the  soul,  ofr  heard  Allston  tell  a 
ghost  story,  must  have  been  convinced  that  there  is  a  natural 
provision  for  wonder  as  well  as  for  reason  in  select  intelligences. 
The  art  of  dealing  with  this  feeling,  however,  is  one  of  the  most 
subtle  of  inventions,  that  fatal  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridicu- 
lous being  constantly  imminent.  One  reason  that  Brockden  Brown 
succeeded  was,  that  a  self-possessed  intelligence,  a  reflective  pro- 
cess, goes  on  simultaneously  before  the  reader's  mind  with  the 
scene  of  m^^stery  or  horror  enacting  ;  he  cannot  despise  as  weak 
the  spectator,  or  the  victim  that  can  so  admirably  portray  his 
state  of  feeling,  and  the  current  of  his  thoughts  at  such  a  crisis 
of  fate.  Witness  the  description  of  the  scene  with  a  panther, 
and  the  defence  of  Wieland. 

There  is  an  association  of  the  marvellous  recorded  by  Dunlap, 
the  friend  and  biographer  of  Brown,  which  links  itself  readily 
to  this  vein  of  the  weird  and  adventurous  he  delighted  to  unfold. 
It  appears  his  name  of  Brockden  was  derived  from  an  English 
progenitor,  who  nearly  lost  his  life  in  consequence  of  overhearing 
a  conspiracy,  when  a  boy,  against  Charles  the  Second,  and  was 
sent  to  America  to  avoid  the  consequences ;  and  there  is  manifest 
in  the  only  lineal  descendant  of  the  novelist  the  same  passion  for 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN.     377 

experiment  in  actual  life  which  inspired  the  latter  in  the  world 
of  opinion  and  fancy.  The  vigor,  directness,  and  energy,  of 
Brown's  mind,  increased  with  discipline ;  for,  although  his  last 
novel  is  inferior  to  its  predecessors,  his  last  pamphlet  is  marked 
by  great  cogency  and  eloquence.  His  stock  of  knowledge,  his 
range  of  observation,  and  his  benign  projects,  expanded  with  his 
years  ;  and  no  judicious  and  kindly  reader  can  examine  his  liter- 
ary remains,  and  ponder  the  facts  of  his  brief  career,  without 
sharing  the  grief  of  those  who  lamented  his  early  death  as  a 
public  not  less  than  a  personal  misfortune. 

Crudity  seems  the  necessary  condition  of  a  nascent  literature  ; 
and  a  large  amount  of  excellent  material  exists,  in  a  printed  form, 
which  is  destined  to  be  recast,  in  a  vital  and  artistic  shape,  by  the 
American  author.  Style  is  the  conservative  element  of  ideas  and 
traditions ;  and  the  hasty  manner  in  which  many  of  our  writers 
have  produced  even  their  best  works,  the  absence  of  a  high  and 
nice  standard  of  taste,  as  well  as  of  inspiring  literary  sympathy, 
accounts  for  the  incomplete,  unlabored,  and  fugitive  shape  in 
which  the  national  mind  has  chiefly  developed.  The  exceptions 
to  this  general  rule  do  not  invalidate  its  prevalence ;  and  the  high 
finish  which  Irving,  Longfellow,  Hawthorne,  and  other  American 
writers,  have  bestowed  on  their  productions,  is  in  striking  con- 
trast with  the  unequal,  careless,  and  fragmentary  character  of  the 
average  issues  of  the  press. 

In  the  case  of  Brown  we  have  to  regret  the  absence  of  careful 
revision  and  sustained  labor.  He  opened  a  mine  from  which 
others  have  wrought  images  of  more  enduring  beauty.  Not 
anticipating  any  great  result,  conscious  of  toiling  in  an  isolated 
field,  and  deprived  of  the  encouragement  to  assiduous  and  refined 
toil  which  only  warm  and  intelligent  recognition  affords,  we  can- 
not be  surprised  that  he  was  satisfied  to  give  utterance  to  his 
inventive  talent,  and  indulge  his  personal  taste,  without  striving 
to  perpetuate  their  emanations.  He  wrote  with  great  rapidity ; 
his  delicate  organization  forbade  the  prolonged  endurance  of 
mental  glow  ;  and,  therefore,  in  almost  every  instance,  his  pages 
give  indications  of  weariness  towards  the  close.  Many  of  his 
works  were  written  and  printed  simultaneously;  he  did  not 
apparently  realize  that  the  vein  of  fiction  in  which  he  excelled 
32=^ 


378  THE     SUPERNATURALIST. 

could  be  worked  up  into  a  standard  value,  or  interest ;  but  gave 
it  vent  without  pausing  to  correct  verbal  inaccuracies,  or  condense 
and  polish  the  stjle. 

He  was  capable  of  giving  to  his  theme  the  unity  and  finish  of 
''  The  Sketch  Book,"  the  "  Idle  Man,"  or  the  "  Scarlet  Letter; " 
but  he  lived  and  wrote  at  a  time  and  under  influences  in  which 
such  genial  care  received  little  praise ;  and  we  must  look  to  the 
elements  and  not  the  form  of  his  genius  in  order  to  do  justice 
to  his  memory.  The  same  kind  of  moral  diagnosis,  if  we  may 
use  the  phrase,  which  gives  to  Balzac's  creations  their  singular 
hold  upon  the  imagination,  under  the  impulse  of  literary  art, 
would  have  enshrined  the  name  of  the  American  novelist ;  he 
possessed  as  decided  a  love  of  exploring  the  very  sources  of  afiec- 
tion,  and  dissecting  character  through  all  the  convolutions  of 
appearance.  No  one  can  read  his  novels  without  feeling  that 
Brown  was  a  psychologist,  as  well  as  a  scholar ;  and  the  critic 
of  judgment  and  candor  must  admit  that  his  perception  of  the 
intricate  in  mental  processes,  and  the  profound  and  the  conflicting 
in  human  emotion,  if  embodied  in  a  choice  dramatic  or  elaborate 
narrative  form,  would  have  continued  to  interest  like  the  trag- 
edies of  Joanna  Baillie  and  the  romances  of  Scott.  As  it  is,  we 
turn  to  our  countryman's  writings  with  that  peculiar  interest 
which  belongs  only  to  what  is  initiative ;  full  of  promise,  and 
significant  of  beauty,  truth,  and  power,  in  a  transition  or  inade- 
quately developed  state.  We  trace  the  footsteps  of  genius  ere 
they  move  with  entire  confidence,  follow  them  in  wayward  paths, 
and  turn,  with  curious  sympathy,  from  the  works  of  more  for- 
tunate, though  not  more  richly-endowed  writers,  to  these  early 
and  original  specimens. 


THE  PAINTER  OF  CHARACTER 

SIR  DAVID  WILKIE. 


The  characteristic  is  an  essential  principle  of  art,  and  one  that 
is  never  attained  without  original  ability,  and  then  rarely  man- 
aged with  tact.  It  possesses  singular  attraction,  in  modern  times, 
from  the  uniformity  of  manners,  induced  by  high  civilization. 
The  peculiar  zest  with  which  an  epicure  enjoys  game,  and  a 
naturalist  or  poet  explores  a  primeval  and  uninvaded  scene,  is 
experienced,  in  a  degree,  by  every  vigorous  and  healthful  mind, 
in  finding  the  characteristic  effectively  depicted  in  literature  and 
art,  or  individualized  in  society.  The  interest  awakened  by  the 
advent  of  a  "lion"  in  the  circles  of  Edinburgh,  London,  or 
Paris ;  the  pleasure  with  which  we  encounter,  in  travel,  a  seques- 
tered village,  where  the  language,  costume,  or  habits  of  the  people, 
have  retained  their  individuality  ;  and  the  earnest  praise  we  lav- 
ish upon  the  author  who  succeeds  in  creating  a  fresh,  consistent, 
and  memorable  character,  are  familiar  evidences  of  the  natural 
love  of  what  is  characteristic  as  an  element  of  universal  taste. 
Yet  this  obvious  truth  has  been  comparatively  seldom  acknowl- 
edged, and  rarely  acted  upon.  Conformity  to  a  classical  type, 
the  dominion  of  a  prescriptive  standard  of  taste,  and  the  tyranny 
of  fashion,  have  combined  to  elevate  imitation  above  originality ; 
and  genius  of  a  high  and  energetic  kind  has  alone  proved  ade- 
quate to  obtain  recognition  for  the  latter. 

Shakspeare  gave  it  sanction  and  nurture  in  England,  and  to 
him  we  ascribe,  in  no  small  measure,  the  bold  individuality  of 


380  THE     PAINTER     OF      CHARACTER. 

achievement  and  taste,  so  remarkable  in  the  history  of  art  and 
letters  in  Great  Britain.  It  is  this  which  accounts  for  the  other- 
wise anomalous  taste  that  unites  such  opposite  extremes  of  appre- 
ciation as  Walpole  and  Gray  with  Bums,  Crabbe,  and  Dickens, 
in  literature  r  and  in  art,  Turner,  West,  and  Lawrence,  with 
Moreland,  Hogarth,  and  Wilkie.  There  exists,  indeed,  an  inter- 
minable dispute  between  the  votaries  of  the  classic  and  the  char- 
acteristic. Only  by  slow  degrees  and  most  unwillingly  do  the 
votaries  of  the  former  yield  their  ground.  Accustomed  to  look  at 
nature  through  the  lens  of  antiquity,  they  dislike  to  admit  that 
she  can  be  directly  viewed, —  that  her  features  may  be  seized  and 
embodied,  and  her  spirit  infused,  without  the  intervention  of  that 
style  which  the  miracles  of  ancient  ai't  have  consecrated.  But 
when  an  original  artist  perfects  himself  in  the  details  of  this  cul- 
ture, as  a  means  of  expression,  and  then  uses  it  to  illustrate 
nature  and  manners  as  they  actually  exist,  these  devotees  of 
antiquity  are  somewhat  bewildered.  In  such  a  case  the  charge 
of  ignorance  or  vulgarity  is  inadmissible.  The  execution  proves 
high  knowledge  and  acquaintance  with  standard  models ;  but  the 
familiarity  of  the  subjects  chosen,  and  the  fact  that,  instead  of 
beauty  according  to  the  abstract  classical  idea,  nature  in  her 
characteristic  significance  is  the  essence  of  the  work,  disturbs  the 
artistic  creed  of  these  ultra  conservatives.  The  delight  which  all 
classes  take  in  the  sight  of  these  adventurous  efforts,  the  instant 
and  genuine  sympathy  they  awaken,  and  the  extraordinary  power 
they  unquestionably  display,  "puzzle  the  will  "  of  the  elegant 
representatives  of  classicism;  and  they  can  only  reiterate  the 
arguments  adduced  in  the  old  controversy  in  regard  to  the  Shaks- 
pearian  and  Racine  drama ;  or  have  the  magnanimity  to  acknowl- 
edge that  the  sphere  of  art  is  infinitely  more  extensive  and  versa- 
tile than  they  had  imagined,  and  cannot  be  limited  by  any  theory 
which  a  single  touch  of  genius  may  forever  annihilate. 

The  career  of  Wilkie  affords,  perhaps,  the  most  striking  and 
certainly  the  most  interesting  illustration  of  these  views.  He 
began  to  be  an  artist  from  instinct,  and  seldom  has  the  tendency 
been  less  modified  by  adventitious  influences.  Excepting  a  print 
of  a  Highland  chief  sent  to  his  father's  manse,  the  exercise  of 
the  artistic  faculty  was  not  even  suggested  to  him  by  any  visible 


SIR     DAVID     WILKIE.  381 

example  of  its  results ;  jet,  on  the  floors  and  walls  of  his  boy- 
hood's frugal  home,  on  the  smooth  stones  of  the  field,  on  the  sand 
of  the  brook-side,  and  on  his  slate  at  school,  he  continually 
sketched  human  faces,  animals,  and  every  picturesque  object  that 
caught  his  eye ;  no  sooner  was  the  visitor's  back  turned,  than 
something,  so  near  a  likeness  that  it  was  immediately  recognized, 
appeared  in  chalk  or  charcoal ;  groups  of  schoolboys  surrounded 
his  desk  for  "counterfeit  presentments;"  he  preferred  to  cover 
the  margin  of  the  page  with  designs,  to  committing  its  text  to 
memory ;  and  to  stand,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  mark 
the  pictures  his  comrades  unconsciously  made  at  their  sports,  to 
engaging  in  them  himself;  and  it  was  his  boast  that  he  could 
draw  before  he  knew  how  to  read,  and  paint  before  he  could 
spell. 

That  love  of  the  characteristic  was  his  chief  inspiration,  while 
thus  spontaneously  exercising  the  language  of  art,  is  evident  from 
the  subjects  he  chose  and  the  kind  of  observation  in  which  he 
delighted.  His  improvised  diuwings  usually  aimed  at  a  great 
significance  or  whimsicality;  mere  imitation  of  uninteresting  objects 
he  abjured.  On  his  way  to  school  he  loitered  to  sketch  a  gypsy 
wife  or  a  maimed  soldier,  a  limping  sailor  or  a  mendicant  fiddler, 
and  to  observe  groups  of  ploughmen ;  while  it  is  remembered  of 
him  that  his  attention  was  often  absorbed  in  watching  a  sunbeam 
on  the  wall,  and  the  ch'iaro  ^sciiro  efiect  of  a  smithy  at  night.  He 
courted  the  society  of  good  story-tellers,  and  displayed,  under  a 
demure  exterior,  the  keenest  relish  of  drollery  and  mischief. 
Like  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  his  heart  "  warmed  to  the  tartan," 
though  for  its  picturesque  rather  than  its  patriotic  associations ; 
and  the  two  memorable  experiences  of  his  boyhood  were  the  sight 
of  the  sea  and  a  review  of  cavalry.  Nerved  by  habits  of  simplic- 
ity, and  practised  in  the  observation  of  nature ;  sagacious,  honest, 
candid,  and  poor,  but  wholly  inexperienced  in  the  technicalities 
and  refinements  of  art  —  with  this  native  sense  of  the  character- 
istic, and  a  decided  genius  for  embodying  it,  he  left  the  manse  of 
Cults,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  to  study  art  in  Edinburgh. 

Habits  of  incessant  application,  and  a  resolution  to  proceed 
intelligently,  and  never,  by  obscure  steps,  according  to  his  fellow- 
pupils,  distinguished  him  at  the  Trustees'  Academy.     He  would 


382  THE     PAINTER     OF     CHARACTER. 

not  copy  the  foot  or  hand  of  an  ancient  statue  without  first  know- 
ing its  law  of  expression,  and  accounting  scientifically  for  the 
position  of  each  muscle;  he  was  thorough  and  constant,  and 
therefore  made  visible  progress  in  facility  and  correctness  of  draw- 
ing. He  took  a  prize  in  a  few  months,  and  the  intervals  of  his 
practice  were  given  to  his  favorite  sphere  of  observation ;  ever  in 
pursuit  of  character,  he  frequented  trysts,  fairs,  and  market- 
places. David  Allan,  a  kind  of  Scotch  Teniers,  was  the  only 
precursor  of  Wilkie  that  seems  to  have  proved  suggestive ;  they 
had  a  natural  vein  in  common,  though  essentially  different ;  and 
this  appears  to  have  been  the  exclusive  source  of  his  early  educa- 
tion in  art. 

An  imperturbable  good-nature  and  love  of  quiet  fun  endeared 
Wilkie  to  his  comrades ;  but  his  form  grew  thin  and  his  cheek 
pale,  from  the  life  of  assiduous  routine  that  filled  the  cycle  of  his 
youth.  Anxious  not  to  invade,  more  than  necessity  compelled,  the 
narrow  resources  of  his  family,  he  earnestly  sought  that  command 
of  art  that  would  enable  him  to  render  it  lucrative ;  and.  on  his 
return  home,  he  began  at  once  to  seek,  and  permanently  repre- 
sent, the  characteristic  phases  of  life  and  manners  in  his  native 
district,  where,  in  boyhood,  he  had  grown  familiar  with  them, 
and  whither  he  had  returned  with ,  power  to  do  justice  to  his  con- 
ceptions. 

The  history  of  his  first  attempt,  in  the  peculiar  sphere  for  which 
nature  so  obviously  adapted  him,  is  one  of  those  pleasing  and  im- 
pressive episodes  in  the  uneventful  career  of  genius,  which  confirm 
our  faith  in  its  natural  resources  and  inevitable  destiny.  With 
an  old  chest  of  drawers  for  an  easel,  and  a  herdboy  for  a  lay- 
figure,  he  began  to  put  upon  canvas  a  village  fair.  The  scene  of 
the  picture  was  the  adjacent  hamlet  of  Pitteslie,  the  site  of  which, 
and  its  local  features,  he  first  carefully  sketched.  His  groups  and 
figures  were  gleaned  on  a  market-day,  and  consisted  of  old  women 
and  bonnie  lassies,  venders  of  poultry,  shoes,  eggs,  and  candy,  a 
travelling  auctioneer,  a  ballad- singer,  a  gayly-decked  recruiting 
sergeant;  and  the  grave  foi*ms  of  ministers  and  elders  whose  por- 
traits he  transferred  to  a  blank  leaf  of  his  Bible  from  the  uncon- 
scious congregation  at  the  kirk.  Thus  directly  from  life  and 
nature  every  trait  of  the  picture  was  derived.     Its  variety  of 


SIR    DAVID     WILKIE.  883 

character  and  dramatic  style  charmed  the  uninitiated,  and  the 
impressive  originality  of  its  conception  won  the  favor  of  tasteful 
and  unprejudiced  observers.  The  number  of  the  latter,  however, 
was  too  limited  at  home  for  him  to  expect  there  the  encourage- 
ment he  needed ;  and  while  he  made  studies  in  the  vicinity  which 
proved  of  great  future  use,  and  sketched  outlines  of  vilhige  and 
rustic  life  which  became  the  means  of  many  subsequent  triumphs, 
his  chief  resource  in  Scotland  was  portrait-painting. 

With  the  gains  of  several  months'  labor  in  this  field,  and 
means  cheerfully  advanced  by  his  father  and  neighbors  to  the 
best  of  their  slender  ability,  he  went  to  London,  like  many  an 
adventurous  genius,  with  a  gift  of  nature  to  develop,  upon  the 
recognition  of  which  his  prosperity  wholly  depended.  We  may 
imagine  the  feelings  of  the  sagacious  but  demure  young  Scot,  as 
he  exchanged  the  familiar  landscape  of  moor  and  mountain  for 
the  English  coast,  the  ship-covered  Thames,  and  the  smoky 
canopy  of  London.  Undaunted  by  the  multitudinous  life  around 
him,  with  a  modest  but  determined  soul,  he  isolated  himself,  and 
patiently  toiled.  For  nine  long  months  he  lived  in  humble 
lodgings,  dined  for  thirteen  pence  a  day,  drew  from  his  own  limbs 
as  models,  and  blacked  his  own  shoes  for  economy.  Illness  as 
well  as  poverty  beset  him  ;  but  his  studies  at  the  academy,  his 
observations  in  the  streets,  and  his  labors  at  the  easel,  were  unre- 
mitted. He  placed  his  pictures  in  a  shop-window,  and  groups 
would  cluster  round  and  enjoy  them ;  they  found  ready  purchas- 
ers at  six  guineas  each,  but  distrust  of  their  own  taste  prevented 
many  from  acknowledging  the  merit  they  could  not  but  feel :  and 
Wilkie  corresponded  with  his  father  on  the  subject  of  returning 
to  the  manse  and  renouncing  his  dream  of  metropolitan  success. 

True  to  his  domestic  attachments,  he  sought  with  his  first 
earnings  to  procure  a  piano-forte  for  his  sister  ;  and  at  the  shop 
of  a  distinguished  manufacturer  he  excited  curiosity,  which  led  to 
an  examination  of  his  portfolio,  and,  at  length,  to  the  exhibition 
of  Pitteslie  Fair  to  the  Countess  of  Mansfield,  a  patroness  of  the 
instrument-maker.  Lord  Mansfield  ordered  a  picture  of  Wilkie, 
selecting  his  sketch  of  "The  Village  Politician"  as  the  subject. 
The  first  idea  of  this  work  seems  to  have  arisen  from  a  popular 
ballad,   but  the  excitement   of   the  French  Revolution,  as  it 


884  THE    PAINTER     OF     CHARACTER. 

operated  in  rural  districts  upon  the  village  gossips,  over  the  ale- 
house Gazette,  rendered  it  an  epitome  of  the  times ;  while  in  its 
details,  as  in  the  former  instance,  the  painter  followed  nature 
with  graphic  authenticity. 

An  incidental  discussion  between  several  artists  of  distinction, 
which  resulted  in  a  visit  to  Wilkie's  humble  studio,  contributed, 
at  the  same  moment,  to  draw  attention  to  his  merits ;  and  the 
exhibition  of  the  "Village  Politician"  at  the  Royal  Academy  was 
an  epoch  in  the  history  of  English  art.  Although  Lord  Mans- 
field, in  his  pecuniary  arrangement  with  Wilkie,  did  not  emulate 
the  liberality  for  which  patrons  of  art  are  renowned  in  Great 
Britain,  yet  the  artist's  manly  behavior  on  the  occasion,  and  the 
fame  of  the  picture,  had  the  immediate  effect  of  establishing  him 
in  public  estimation.  Thenceforth  his  reputation  was  fixed  as  an 
original  painter;  in  him  the  characteristic  found  its  legitimate 
exponent;  and  although  Northcote  sneered  at  his  subjects  as 
belonging  to  the  "  pauper  school,"  and  Haydon,  in  his  admira- 
tion of  the  grand  style,  disputed  with  him  as  to  the  claims  of  his 
sphere  of  art,  he  calmly  pursued  his  course ;  and  the  Auroras  and 
Calypsos  of  the  exhibition  were  neglected,  in  their  artificial 
beauty,  while  the  iron-railing  about  Wilkie's  homely  but  true 
and  natural  creations,  was  constantly  surrounded  by  eager 
throngs  of  all  classes,  whose  looks  of  wonder,  mirth,  or  tender- 
ness, bore  witness  to  their  genuine  emotion. 

The  eifect  of  Wilkie's  success  upon  the  people  of  his  native 
place  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  tlieir  original  misgivings  as 
to  his  career.  The  ominous  shake  of  th^  head,  with  which  the 
narrow  but  worthy  presbytei-s  had  listened  to  what  they  deemed 
his  profane  intent,  gave  place  to  the  reluctant  confession  that  he 
was  an  ingenious  lad;  the  old  villagers,  who  had  been  most 
offended  at  finding  their  respectable  faces  transferred  to  the  pic- 
ture of  a  Fair  without  their  knowledge  and  consent,  now  called  at 
the  manse,  to  thank  the  young  artist  for  the  enduring  honor 
bestowed  by  his  miraculous  pencil ;  the  rustic  satirist,  who  had 
declared  of  one  of  his  early  sketches  that  it  was  more  like  a 
flounder  than  a  foot,  was  now  voted  a  simpleton ;  and  the  old 
dame,  whose  prophecy  of  the  boy  David,  that  he  would  live  to  be 
knighted,  had  been  ridiculed,  now  won  quite  a  reputation  for 


SIR    DAVID    WILKIE.  385 

second-sightj  especially  as  the  prediction  -was  soon  literally  ful- 
filled. 

Next  to  the  patronage  secured  by  his  fame,  its  most  valuable 
result  was  social  advancement.  He  immediately  gained  the 
friendship  and  confidence,  and,  in  many  instances,  the  habitual 
society,  of  the  leading  men  of  rank,  genius,  and  character,  in  the 
kingdom,  and  preserved  the  benefit  first  obtained  through  artistic 
genius,  by  his  rich  humor,  unalloyed  simplicity,  and  candid  good- 
nature. Indeed,  no  better  evidence  of  the  solid  nature  of  Wil- 
kie's  gifts  and  acquirements  could  be  afforded,  than  that  shown 
in  the  manner  of  receiving  what  has  been  justly  called  "this 
gust  of  fame."  His  enthusiasm  remained  calm  as  before,  his 
habits  of  application  unchanged,  his  assiduity  in  the  study  and 
representation  of  the  characteristic  increased ;  he  seemed  only 
confirmed,  by  the  public  response  to  his  aspirations,  in  their  essen- 
tial truth  and  efficacy ;  no  symptom  of  elation  appeared ;  and  it 
soon  became  evident  to  all  that  Wilkie's  modesty  was  equal  to  his 
originality. 

It  is  impossible  to  follow  his  subsequent  career  without  acknowl- 
edging the  peculiar  value  of  individual  patronage  to  the  cause  of 
art.  We  have  seen  that  long  and  careful  observation,  repeated 
experiment,  and  patient  study,  are  essential  to  the  production 
of  such  works  as  those  adapted  to  his  genius.  To  toil  thus 
upon  a  doubtful  subject,  to  create  instead  of  ministering  to  taste 
of  this  kind,  or  to  sacrifice  a  sphere  so  original  and  attractive  for 
portrait-painting,  are  equally  undesirable  alternatives ;  it  is  need- 
ful that  the  artist  should  be  cheered  by  a  reliable  destination  for 
his  work,  that  he  should  devote  himself  to  it  with  confidence,  and 
a  spirit  of  freedom,  hope,  and  self-possession,  such  as  can  never 
be  realized  when  the  disposition  and  recompense  of  this  labor  is 
wholly  precarious. 

Accordingly,  we  deem  Wilkie's  successive  admirable  efforts  the 
legitimate  fruits  of  tasteful  individual  encouragement ;  the  com- 
mission of  Lord  Mansfield  was  immediately  followed  by  one 
from  Lord  Mulgrave,  and  others  from  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
and  Sir  George  Beaumont.  The  latter  gentleman  may  be  con- 
sidered the  ideal  of  an  artist's  friend.  Thoroughly  versed  in  the 
principles,  history,  and  practice  of  art,  and  only  excluded  from  a 
33 


386  THE    PAINTER    OF     CHARACTER. 

high  share  of  its  honors  bj  a  want  of  executiv^e  facility,  he  not 
only  ordered  a  picture  with  a  tasteful  wisdom  that  enlisted  every 
true  artist's  gratitude,  but  watched  its  progress  with  an  appre- 
ciative enthusiasm  that  awakened  the  best  sympathies  of  the 
painter ;  his  tact  and  liberality  were  equal  to  his  intelligence  and 
taste.  His  letters  to  Wilkie  are  beautiful  illustrations  of  charac- 
ter, as  well  as  evidences  of  artistic  knowledge  and  zeal.  His 
home  was  the  favorite  resort  of  the  fraternity,  and  his  visits  and 
letters  cheered  tlie  labors  and  the  lives  of  a  class  of  men  who 
need  more  and  receive  less  recognition  than  any  other. 

Wilkie  continued  to  illustrate  the  subjects  that  from  the  first 
arrested  his  mind ;  usually  they  were  tinged  with  his  own  expe- 
rience, and  had  a  distinct  national  association  ;  and  always  the 
graces  of  execution  were  made  to  elucidate  the  characteristic  in 
expression.  ''The  Blind  Fiddler,"  "The  Letter  of  Introduc- 
tion," "  The  Reading  of  the  Will,"  "  The  Penny  Wedding," 
"The  Card  Players,"  "The  Newsmonger,"  "The  Unexpected 
Visitor,"  "The  Cut  Finger,"  "  Guess  my  Name,"  "The  Parish 
Beadle,"  "Rent  Day,"  and  "The  Rabbit  on  the  Wall,"  are 
pictures,  the  very  names  of  which  at  once  suggest  the  genius  of 
Wilkie,  the  originality  of  his  sphere,  and  the  causes  of  his  popu- 
larity. Except  to  professional  readers,  the  description  of  a  pic- 
ture is  usually  tedious  and  vague  ;  the  general  character  of  those 
of  Wilkie  may  be  inferred  from  their  names ;  while  the  inimitable 
skill  and  effect  of  their  execution  have  been  made  familiar  by  the 
excellent  engravings  of  the  originals  so  widely  distributed  on 
both  sides  of  the  ocean.  Like  the  poems  of  Burns,  they  speak 
directly  to  the  heart  and  fancy,  to  the  sense  of  humor  and 
humanity ;  and,  humble  as  is  their  apparent  aim,  few  works  of 
art  breathe  so  universal  a  lanojuaf^e ;  for  it  is  derived  from  and 
addressed  to  our  common  nature,  with  only  such  local  and  indi- 
vidual modification  as  give  it  significance  and  personality. 

The  "  Reading  of  the  Will"  is  said  to  have  been  suggested  by 
Bannister,  the  comedian ;  it  is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  not 
only  of  Wilkie's  pictures,  but  of  the  school  to  which  it  belongs ; 
it  is  a  kind  of  sublimated  Hogarth,  a  genuine  scene  in  life's 
drama,  expressive,  true,  and  having  that  fine  mixture  of  nature, 
irony  of  observation,  and  skill,  which  forms  the  excellence  of 


SIR     DAVID    W  ILK  IE.  387 

the  domestic  style  of  art.  The  business  air  of  the  attorney,  the  snuf- 
fling boy  with  his  marbles,  the  pensive  coquetry  of  the  bouncing 
■widow,  the  gallant  devotion  of  the  stalwart  officer,  and  the  flus- 
tering, indignant  movement  of  the  piqued  dame,  are  eloquent 
exhibitions  of  character.  For  unity  of  design  artists  give  the 
preference  to  the  "Blind  Fiddler;"  the  old  man's  complacent 
look  at  the  sight  of  the  children's  pleasure,  the  boy  imitating  the 
musician  with  a  pair  of  bellows,  the  leaping  of  the  infant,  and  the 
mother's  sympathetic  delight,  form  a  family  scene,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  music,  at  once  sweet,  natural,  and  harmonious. 

Probably  no  single  work  exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy  ever 
produced  the  immediate  effect  of  "The  Waterloo  Gazette."  From 
the  women  leaning  out  of  the  windows  to  drink  in  the  thrilling 
news,  to  the  oyster  suspended  on  the  half-raised  fork  of  the 
entranced  listener,  every  figure  and  object  indicates  the  effect  of 
the  tidings,  and  this  so  vividly  as  to  absorb  and  infect  spectators 
of  every  class. 

The  English  school  of  painting  is  admirably  illustrative  of 
English  life  and  character.  It  is  essentially  domestic,  and  often 
so  when  professedly  historical.  Its  landscapes,  family  groups, 
rural  manners,  or  characteristic  subjects,  depicted  with  elegance, 
nicety,  expression,  and  truth,  one  would  instantly  infer  were 
destined  to  become  familiar  and  endeared  to  vigilant  eyes  in  the 
privacy  of  home.  Grandeur  of  design,  and  exaltation  of  senti- 
ment,—  the  pictorial  generalization  of  the  old  masters,  intended 
to  adorn  cathedrals  and  princely  walls, —  would  be  singularly  out 
of  place  in  domestic  retreats.  A  consciousness  on  the  part  of 
the  artists  that  they  thus  minister  to  the  individual  and  the 
family  seems  to  chasten,  refine,  and  genially  inspire  their  labors. 
There  is  something  almost  personally  attaching  in  some  of  these 
limners,  as  there  is  in  the  household  writers  of  Britain ;  and  we 
feel  towards  Gainsborough,  Leslie,  and  Wilkie,  as  we  do  towards 
Thomson,  Goldsmith,  and  Sterne.  Yet  one  can  scarcely  imagine 
a  greater  variety  of  style  than  the  renowned  painters  of  Eng- 
land include  ;  few  contrasts  in  art  being  more  absolute  than  those 
between  Moreland  and  Turner,  West  and  Leslie,  or  Reynolds  and 
Lawrence. 

In  the  works  and  artistic  opinions  of  Wilkie  there  is  more 


38B  THE     PAINTER     OF     CHARACTER. 

intelligence  than  imagination ;  good  sense,  clear  reasoning,  and 
tboughtfulness,  form  the  basis  of  his  genius ;  and  these  are  the 
very  qualities  which  distinguish  the  English  from  the  Italians 
and  Dutch,  —  the  former  having  sense  as  the  main  element  of 
their  artistic  activity,  the  second  imagination,  and  the  latter  imi- 
tation, ''  Art,"'  says  Wilkie,  "is  only  art  when  it  adds  mind  to 
form."  Elsewhere  he  speaks  of  Turner's  "  glamour  of  color," 
and  observes  :  "  With  a  certain  class  of  subjects  it  is  necessary 
to  put  in  much  that  is  imaginary,  or  without  authority,  and  to 
leave  out  much  unadapted  for  painting." 

Few  artists  uniformly  had  a  better  reason  for  the  faith  that  was  in 
them  than  Wilkie  ;  and  his  memory  and  observation  were  equally 
characterized  by  this  intelligent  spirit.  Jerusalem  recalled  to  his 
mind  the  imagination  of  Poussin,  and  seemed  built  for  all  time ; 
while  he  recognized  in  the  works  of  Titian,  Paul  Veronese,  and 
Piombo,  the  closest  resemblance  to  the  Syrian  race,  and  ascribed 
it  to  the  constant  intercourse  between  Venice  and  the  East. 
From  his  comprehensive  style,  he  saw  that  Michael  Angelo's 
prophets  and  sibyls  resembled  the  Jews  of  the  Holy  City ;  while 
Raphael  and  Da  Vinci  recalled  nature.  He  seems  justly  to  have 
understood  himself,  and  never  painted  well  except  when  self- 
impelled  to  a  subject.  He  declined  a  commission  to  execute  a 
picture  of  the  death  of  Sydney,  from  a  conviction  of  his  inapti- 
tude for  the  particular  style  required ;  and  all  Sir  Walter's 
counsel  to  him,  in  behalf  of  certain  picturesque  and  memorable 
localities  in  Scotland,  was  thrown  away  upon  the  artist,  who, 
meanwhile,  was  busy  in  his  own  manner,  collecting  pictorial  data, 
and  providing  what  his  friends  called  "relays  of  character,"  — 
working  up  his  inimitable  conceptions,  and,  at  intervals,  replen- 
ishing his  purse  by  limning  a  portrait.  In  the  latter  department, 
his  most  elaborate  works  are  the  Queen  and  her  Council,  Wel- 
lington, O'Connell,  and  Scott's  family  at  Abbotsford. 

In  one  of  his  felicitous  speeches,  Wilkie  remarked  of  his  native 
country :  "  Bleak  as  are  her  mountains,  and  homely  as  are  her 
people,  they  have  yet  in  their  habits  and  occupations  a  charac- 
teristic acuteness  and  feeling ;  "  and  these  he  seemed  as  much 
inspired  to  embody  and  preserve  as  Scott  the  historic  associations 
or  Burns  the  rustic  sentiment  of  the  land  j  and  his  eminent  sue- 


SIB.    DAVID    WILKIE.  389 

cess  is  chiefly  attributable  to  the  possession,  in  a  high  degree,  of 
the  traits  of  his  nation  —  sagacity,  perseverance,  and  a  kind  of 
implicit  faith  in  the  understanding  as  the  guide  to  truth.  His 
habit  of  interrupting  conversation  whenever  he  did  not  clearly 
understand  what  w^as  said,  and  insisting  on  an  explanation,  his 
comments  on  art,  and  his  patient  experiments,  both  observant  and 
executive,  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  actual  reflection  of  nature, 
evince  a  self-reliance  and  inteUigent  persistency  that  insured  an 
ultimate  triumph.  He  was  usually  an  entire  year  in  producing 
a  work. ;  it  first  existed  vaguely  in  his  mind  foi'  a  long  interval, 
and  around  the  primitive  conception  were  gradually  clustered 
hints  caught  from  experience ;  and,  when  at  last  on  the  easel, 
repeated  changes  brought  it  slowly  to  perfection.  It  indicates 
unusual  perspicuity  in  his  teacher  at  Edinburgh  that  he  wrote 
the  elder  Wilkie  that  there  was  something  of  Correggio's  man- 
ner in  his  son's  drawing,  and  that  "the  more  delicacy  required 
in  the  execution  the  more  successful  would  he  be."  He  also 
prophesied  his  ability  for  the  higher  range  of  art,  founded  on 
this  truth,  and  exactitude  in  the  treatment  of  humble  subjects 
Yet,  when  Wilkie  first  presented  himself  with  the  Earl  of  Lev- 
en's  introduction  to  the  Trustees'  Academy,  he  was  refused 
admission  on  the  ground  of  his  technical  ignorance.  The  defi- 
ciency in  imitative  skill,  which  he  had  enjoyed  no  adequate 
opportunity  to  gain,  was  thus  suffered  to  blind  the  professor  to 
his  originality  of  conception  —  the  rarest  and  most  valuable  gift 
of  the  artist.  When  culture  and  experience  had  given  him  a 
control  of  the  vocabulary  of  art,  his  genius  unfolded  into  what 
has  been  aptly  called  "the  skill  of  Hogarth,  and  the  glow  with- 
out the  grossness  of  Teniers."  There  is  always  a  moral  as  well 
as  a  graphic  power  in  his  works,  a  lesson  of  humanity,  a  glimpse 
of  universal  truth,  which  exalt  the  homeliest  details,  and  give 
significance  to  every  casual  touch. 

Wilkie's  artist-life  was  chiefly  diversified  by  social  recreation 
and  travel.  On  his  journeys  to  the  Continent,  his  constant  atten- 
tion was  given  to  pictures,  and  his  letters  abound  in  wise,  just, 
and  independent  criticism.  In  Germany  he  enjoyed  the  satis- 
faction of  finding  two  of  his  best  works  held  in  great  estimation, 
—  "  The  Reading  of  the  Will,"  and  "  The  Toilet  of  a  Bride ;  " 
33* 


390  THE    PAINTER     OF     CHARACTER. 

the  possession  of  the  former  having  been  amicably  disputed  by 
the  kings  of  England  and  Bavaria. 

He  revelled  in  the  examination  of  the  Correggios  at  Parma, 
gazed  with  interest  on  Rembrandt's  house  at  Antwerp,  was 
reminded  of  Cuyp  at  Nimeguen,  and  studied  Michael  Angelo 
with  reverence  in  Italy.  He  took  the  Sultan's  portrait  at  Con- 
stantinople, and  was  honored  by  a  public  dinner  at  Rome,  at 
which  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  presided,  and  all  the  artists  of  dis- 
tinction in  the  Eternal  City  were  present.  His  last  pilgrimage 
was  to  the  East ;  and  the  record  of  his  impressions  overflows 
with  a  keen  yet  holy  appreciation  of  its  scenes  and  history. 
With  his  portfolio  enriched  by  sketches  of  the  landscape,  cos- 
tume, and  physiognomy,  in  which  that  memorable  region  abounds, 
his  views  of  art  enlarged,  and  his  fancy  teeming  with  new  sub- 
jects, on  his  way  home,  his  life  prematurely  closed  on  board  an 
oriental  steamer  in  the  harbor  of  Gibraltar. 

His  views  of  art  were  both  acute  and  comprehensive.  He 
recognized  the  spiritual  aim  of  Correggio,  and  the  detailed  fidel- 
ity of  the  Dutch  painters,  and,  in  his  last  manner,  more  perfectly 
united  them  than  any  previous  limner.  "  Take  away  simplicity 
from  art,"  he  writes,  *'and  away  goes  all  its  influence;"  yet 
elsewhere  he  declares  that  the  "power  of  stirring  deep  emotion, 
and  not  of  overcoming  difiiculties,  is  her  peculiar  glory."  He 
considered  art  a  language  to  be  used  wisely,  and  sought  his  own 
material  among  the  pipers  and  deer-stalkers  of  Athol,  in  the 
byway  hovels  of  Ireland,  in  Jew's  Row,  London,  in  projecting 
gables,  in  byway  incidents,  in  the  sagacity  of  mind  and  kindli- 
ness of  heart  of  the  aged,  in  the  mirth  of  the  Lowlands,  in  the 
figures  at  the  public  bath  on  the  Danube,  in  the  old  scribe  at  the 
mosque  door,  and  in  the  incidental  groups,  brilliant  harmony  of 
color,  and  effective  light  and  shade,  which  nature  and  life  afforded. 
He  appealed  to  the  immediate  ;  selected  themes  of  national  inter- 
est, and  made  noble  pictures  out  of  familiar  materials.  Hence 
the  ardent  recognition  and  unbounded  popularity  he  enjoyed. 
"  From  Giotto  to  Michael  Angelo,"  he  remarks,  "  expression  and 
sentiment  seem  the  first  things  thought  of,  while  those  who  fol- 
lowed seemed  to  have  allowed  technicalities  to  get  the  better  of 


SIB     DAVID     WILKIE.  391 

them."  In  Wilkie's  happiest  efforts  the  desirable  proportion 
between  these  two  elements  of  art  is  completely  realized. 

An  ingenious  work  has  been  published  to  show  the  effect  of 
different  mechanic  trades  upon  the  animal  economy ;  a  curious 
branch  of  the  inquiry  might  include  the  influence  of  special  kinds 
of  mental  action  upon  the  brain  and  nerves.  We  have  seen  that 
Wilkie's  superiority  consisted  in  the  minutiae  of  expression 
attained  by  intense  study.  After  thus  executing  several  renowned 
works,  he  seems  to  have  felt  great  cerebral  disturbance;  the 
power  of  sustained  attention  was  invaded ;  when  his  mind  became 
fixed  upon  a  sketch  or  a  conception,  suddenly  a  mist  would  rise 
before  his  eyes,  his  ideas  would  grow  bewildered,  and  only 
after  an  interval  of  repose  or  recreation  could  he  again  com- 
mand his  faculties.  The  discriminating  reader  of  his  own 
account  of  the  process  by  which  he  worked  out  his  artistic 
ideas  cannot  fail  to  recognize  in  the  assiduous  concentration 
of  thought  upon  the  details  of  expression,  if  not  the  proximate 
cause,  at  least  an  aggravation  of  this  tendency  to  cerebral  disease. 
A  succession  of  domestic  bereavements  and  pecuniary  difficulties, 
oonsequent  upon  the  failure  of  his  bankers,  increased  these  symp- 
toms in  Wilkie,  induced  his  Eastern  tour,  and  doubtless  occa- 
sioned his  apparently  sudden  demise. 

Perhaps,  too,  the  mental  necessity  of  a  change  of  habit  led 
him  at  first  to  modify  his  style,  and  seek,  in  his  last  pic- 
tures, more  general  effects.  From  whatever  cause,  he  certainly 
astonished  even  his  admirers  by  the  graceful  ease  with  which 
he,  all  at  once,  rose  to  the  dignity  of  historical  subjects,  and  a 
more  exalted  dramatic  expression.  It  is  true  that  Wilkie  is 
thought  to  have  wholly  failed  as  an  ideal  artist,  but  this  opinion 
is  probably  owing  to  the  comparative  superiority  of  his  character 
pictures.  Hints  of  another  phase  of  his  genius  he  had,  indeed, 
given  at  an  early  date,  in  the  beautiful  sentiment  of  the  scene 
from  the  Gentle  Shepherd, — one  of  his  first  works,  —  and  subse- 
quently in  the  picture  of  "Alfred  the  Great  in  the  Neatherd's 
Cottage  ;  "  but  the  feeling  and  power  displayed  in  the  "  Chelsea 
Pensioners,"  the  "  Maid  of  Saragossa,"  and  "Knox  Preaching 
the  Reformation,"  proved  that  Wilkie  could  soar,  at  will,  into 
the  higher  spheres  of  art,  and  carry  his  principles  of  execution 


892  THE    PAINTER    OF     CHARACTER. 

into  the  noblest  class  of  subjects.  These  and  other  pictures  of 
the  kind,  besides  possessing  his  usual  merit  of  being  eminently 
characteristic,  were  not  less  remarkable  for  their  comprehensive 
spirit.  The  "  Peep  o'  Day  "  tells  in  two  figures  the  whole  story 
of  Ireland's  wrongs ;  the  "  Chelsea  Pensioners"  is  the  most 
pathetic  tribute  to  patriotic  valor  ever  put  upon  canvas ;  sailors 
and  soldiers,  with  their  wives  and  children,  wept  over  it  at  the 
exhibition. 

The  "  Spanish  Posada"  is  an  epitome  of  modern  Spain, 
grouping,  as  it  does,  with  such  truth  to  fact  and  nature,  a 
Guerilla  council  of  war,  a  Dominican,  a  monk  of  the  Escurial,  a 
Jesuit,  a  patriot  in  the  costume  of  Valencia,  the  landlady  serving 
her  guests  with  chocolate,  a  mendicant  student  of  Salamanca, 
with  his  lexicon  and  cigar,  whispering  soft  things  in  her  ear,  a 
contrabandist  on  a  mule,  an  armed  Castilian,  a  dwarf  with  a 
guitar,  a  goatherd,  the  muzzled  house-dog,  the  pet  lamb,  and  the 
Guadarma  Mountains  in  the  background.  Wilkie's  picture  and 
Byron's  verses  have  made  the  Maid  of  Saragossa  familiar  to  the 
civilized  world ;  but  perhaps  no  single  work  combines  the  excel- 
lence of  Wilkie  in  a  more  impressive  manner  than  "  Knox." 
The  still-life  is  as  exact  as  if  painted  by  a  Flemish  master,  and 
as  suggestive  as  if  designed  by  Hogarth ;  all  the  faces  are 
authentic  portraits  ;  —  the  expression  of  the  stern  and  eloquent 
reformer,  and  the  effect  of  what  he  says  upon  the  different  per- 
sons assembled,  are  absolutely  and  relatively  characteristic.  The 
whole  scene  is,  as  it  were,  thus  redeemed  in  vital  significance 
from  the  past.  Wilkie  explored  the  pahice  at  Holyrood,  the 
portraits  of  the  leaders  of  that  day,  and  attended  the  preach- 
ing of  Chalmers  and  Irving,  to  obtain  the  materials  of  this 
inimitable  work,  in  which  the  highest  graces  of  the  Flemish  and 
Italian  schools  seem  united.  Calm,  observant,  persevering,  and 
acute,  Wilkie  thus  won  successive  victories  in  art,  and  proved  his 
faith  in  its  conservative  worth  by  embodying  memorable  national 
events,  until  he  fairly  earned  the  praise  of  being  the  "most  orig- 
inal, vigorous,  and  varied,  of  the  British  painters  "  He  con- 
tinued, as  he  advanced,  to  bear  his  honors  meekly,  from  the 
freedom  of  his  native  town  to  the  order  of  knighthood,  the  eclat 
of  an  exhibition  of  his  collected  works,  the  friendship  of  the 


SIR    DAVID    WILKIE. 

noble,  the  gifted,  and  the  powerful,  to  the  annual  enthusiasm 
excited  by  his  contributions  to  the  academy.  His  birth  was  reg- 
istered in  an  obscure  Scotch  parish,  and  his  death  in  the  log-book 
of  a  Mediterranean  steamer  ;  yet,  within  the  fifty-two  years  thu3 
included,  how  richly  did  he  contribute  to  art,  win  fimie,  and  vin- 
dicate genius ! 


THE    LAY    PREACHER 

JOSEPH  ADDISON. 


There  is  not  a  name  in  the  annals  of  English  literature  more 
widely  associated  with  pleasant  recollections  than  that  of  Addi- 
son. His  beautiful  hymns  trembled  on  our  lips  in  childhood ; 
his  cheerful  essays  fii'st  lured  us,  in  youth,  to  a  sense  of  the  minor 
philosophy  of  life ;  we  tread  his  walk  at  Oxford  with  loving  steps ; 
gaze  on  his  portrait,  at  Holland  House  or  the  Bodleian  Gallery, 
as  on  the  lineaments  of  a  revered  friend ;  recall  his  journey  into 
Italy,  his  ineffectual  maiden  speech,  his  successful  tragedy,  his 
morning  studies,  his  evenings  at  Button's,  his  unfortunate  mar- 
riage, and  his  holy  death-bed,  as  if  they  were  the  experiences  of 
one  personally  known,  as  well  as  fondly  admired  ;  and  we  muse 
beside  the  marble  that  designates  his  sepulchre  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  between  those  of  his  first  patron  and  his  most  cherished 
friend,  with  an  interest  such  as  is  rarely  awakened  by  the 
memory  of  one  familiar  to  us  only  through  books.  The  harmony 
of  his  character  sanctions  his  writings ;  the  tone  of  the  Spectator 
breathes  friendliness  as  well  as  instruction ;  and  the  tributes  of 
contemporaries  to  his  private  worth,  and  of  generations  to  his 
literary  excellence,  combine  with  our  knowledge  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  his  life,  to  render  his  mind  and  person  as  near  to  our 
sympathies  as  they  are  high  in  our  esteem.  Over  his  faults  we 
throw  the  veil  of  charity,  and  cherish  the  remembrance  of  his 
benevolence  and  piety,  his  refinement  and  wisdom,  as  the  sacred 
legacy  of  an  intellectual  benefactor. 


JOSEPHADDISON.  395 

This  posthumous  regard  is  confirmed  bj  the  appreciation  of 
his  coevals.  Not  only  did  Addison  find  a  faithful  patron  in 
Halifax  and  a  cordial  recognition  from  the  public,  but  these 
testimonies  to  the  merit  of  the  author  were  exceeded  by  the 
love  and  deference  bestowed  on  the  man.  Sir  Richard  Steele, 
with  all  his  frank  generosity,  was  jealous  of  Tickell's  place  in 
the  heart  of  their  common  friend,  Tickell's  elegiac  tribute  to 
whom  has  been  justly  pronounced  one  of  the  most  feeling  and 
graceful  memorials  of  departed  excellence  in  English  verse. 
"When  Budgell,  a  contributor  to  the  Spectator,  became  a  suicide, 
he  endeavored  to  justify  the  rash  act  by  the  example  and  reason- 
ing of  Addison's  Cato.  When  Pope  turned  his  satirical  muse 
upon  the  gentle  essayist,  he  polished  the  terms  and  modified  the 
censure,  as  if  involuntary  respect  chastened  the  spirit  of  ridicule. 
Dry  den  welcomed  him  to  the  ranks  of  literature,  and  Boileau 
greeted  him  with  praise  on  his  first  visit  to  France.  Throughout 
his  life,  the  distinction  he  gained  by  mental  aptitude  and  culture 
was  confirmed  by  integrity  and  geniality  of  character.  Even 
party  rancor  yielded  to  the  moral  dignity  and  kindliness  of  Addi- 
son ;  and  his  opponents,  when  in  power,  respected  his  intercession, 
and  would  not  suffer  difference  of  opinion  to  chill  their  affection. 
Lady  Montagu  thought  his  company  delightful.  Lord  Chester- 
field declared  him  the  most  modest  man  he  had  ever  seen.  When 
he  called  Gay  to  his  bedside  and  asked  forgiveness,  with  his 
dying  breath,  for  some  unrecognized  negligence  with  regard  to 
that  author's  interest,  the  latter  protested,  with  tearful  admira- 
tion, that  he  had  nothing  to  pardon  and  everything  to  regret. 
Swift's  jealousy  of  Addison  is  an  emphatic  proof  of  his  merit ;  — 
the  literary  gladiator,  unsatisfied  with  his  triumphs,  obviously 
turned  a  jaundiced  eye  upon  the  literary  artist,  whose  object  was 
social  reform  and  intellectual  diversion,  instead  of  party  warfare 
and  intolerant  satire.  "  I  will  not,"  says  the  cynical  dean, 
''  meddle  with  the  Spectator,  let  him  fair  sex  it  to  the  world's 
end."  The  allusion  to  the  improvement  of  women,  to  which  this 
new  form  of  literature'^so  effectually  ministered,  is  unfortunate, 
as  coming  from  a  man  who,  at  the  very  time,  was  ruthlessly  tri- 
fling with  the  deepest  instincts  of  the  female  heart.  Woman  is, 
indeed,  indebted  to  Addison  and  his  fraternity,  for  giving  a  new 


396  THE     LAY     PREACHER. 

impulse  to  her  better  education,  and  a  more  generous  scope  to  her 
intellectual  tastes.  So  much  was  this  aim  and  result  of  the  Spec- 
tator recognized,  that  Goldoni,  in  one  of  his  comedies,  alludes  to 
a  female  philosopher  as  made  such  by  the  habitual  perusal  of  it. 
Johnson's  observations  on  Addison  are  reverent  as  well  as  criti- 
cal ;  he  pays  homage  to  his  character,  and  advises  all,  who  desire 
to  acquire  a  pure  English  style,  to  make  a  study  of  his  writings. 
Nor  have  such  tributes  ceased  with  the  fluctuations  of  taste  and 
the  progress  of  time.  Of  all  the  elocjuent  illustrations  of  Eng- 
lish literary  character  which  Macaulay's  brilliant  rhetoric  has 
yielded,  not  one  glows  with  a  warmer  appreciation,  or  more  dis- 
criminating yet  lofty  praise,  than  the  beautiful  essay  on  Addi- 
son's Life  and  Writings,  prefixed  to  the  American  edition,  which 
is  the  most  complete  and  best  annotated  that  has  yet  appeared. 

The  tranquil  and  religious  atmosphere  of  an  English  parson- 
age chastened  the  early  days  of  Addison ;  and  although  a  few 
traditions  indicate  that  he  was  given  to  youthful  pranks,  it  is 
evident  that  the  tenor  of  his  character  was  remarkably  thought- 
ful and  reserved.  During  his  ten  years'  residence  at  Oxford 
he  was  a  devoted  and  versatile  student,  and  it  is  to  the  discipline 
of  classical  acquirements  that  we  owe  the  fastidious  correctness 
of  his  style.  The  mastery  he  obtained  over  the  Latin  tongue 
revealed  to  him  the  nice  relations  between  thought  and  language ; 
and  he  wrote  English  with  the  simplicity,  directness,  and  grace, 
which  still  render  the  Spectator  a  model  of  prose  composition. 
Seldom  has  merely  correct  and  tasteful  verse,  however,  been  so 
lucrative  as  it  proved  to  him.  His  Latin  poems  first  secured  his 
election  to  Magdalen  College ;  his  tmnslations  of  a  part  of  the 
Georgics,  and  their  inscription  to  Dryden,  drew  from  that  veteran 
author  the  warmest  recognition ;  his  poem  to  King  William 
obtained  for  him  the  patronage  of  Lord  Somers,  Keeper  of  the 
Great  Seal,  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  His  poetical  epistle  to 
Montagu  from  Italy  was  but  the  graceful  acknowledgment  of  the 
Chancellor's  agency  in  procuring  him  a  pension  of  three  hun- 
dred pounds.  His  poem  of  "  The  Campaign,"  written  at  the 
request  of  Lord  Godolphin,  to  celebrate  the  victory  of  Hoch- 
stadt,  gained  him  the  ofiice  of  Commissioner  of  Appeals ;  and 
thenceforth  we  find  him  appointed  to  successive  and  profitable 


JOSEPH    Xddison.  397 

oiEces,  from  that  of  Keeper  of  the  Records  in  Birmingham's 
Tower,  to  that  of  Secretary  of  State,  from  which  he  retired  with 
a  pension  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds.  Besides  official  visits  to 
Hanover  and  Ireland,  soon  after  his  literary  qualifications  had 
won  him  the  patronage  of  Halifax,  he  made  a  tour  abroad, 
remained  several  months  at  Blois  to  perfect  himself  in  French, 
mingled  with  the  best  circles  of  Paris,  Rome,  and  Geneva,  and 
surveyed  the  historical  scenes  of  the  Italian  peninsula  with  the 
eyes  of  a  scholar.  These  opportunities  to  study  mankind  and  to 
observe  nature  were  not  lost  upon  Addison.  He  was  ever  on 
the  alert  for  an  original  specimen  of  humanity,  and  interested  by 
natural  phenomena,  as  well  as  cognizant  of  local  associations 
derived  from  a  thorough  knowledfije  of  Roman  authors.  We  can 
imagine  no  culture  more  favorable  to  the  literary  enterprise  in 
which  he  subsequently  engaged,  than  this  solid  basis  of  classical 
learning,  followed  by  travel  on  the  Continent,  where  entirely  new 
phases  of  scenery,  opinions,  and  society,  were  freely  revealed  to 
his  intelligent  curiosity,  and  succeeded  by  an  official  career  that 
brought  him  into  responsible  contact  with  the  realities  of  life. 
Thus  enriched  by  his  lessons  of  experience,  and  disciplined  by 
accurate  study,  when  Addison  first  sent  over  from  Ireland  a  con- 
tribution to  his  friend  Steele's  Tatler,  he  unconsciously  opened  a 
vein  destined  to  yield  intellectual  refreshment  to  all  who  read  his 
vernacular,  and  to  ally  his  name  to  the  most  agreeable  and  useful 
experiment  in  modern  literature. 

Never  did  the  art  of  writing  prove  a  greater  personal  blessing 
than  to  Addison.  His  knowledge,  wit,  and  taste,  were  not  at  his 
oral  command,  except  in  the  society  of  intimate  friends.  The 
presence  of  strangers  destroyed  his  self-possession  ;  and,  as  a 
public  speaker,  he  failed  through  constitutional  diffidence.  Yet 
no  one  excelled  him  in  genial  and  suggestive  conversation.  The 
fluency  and  richness  of  his  colloquial  powers  were  alike  remark- 
able ;  but  the  world  knew  him  only  as  a  respectable  poet  and 
scholar,  and  a  faithful  civic  officer,  until  the  Spectator  inau- 
gurated that  peculiar  kind  of  literature  which  seemed  expressly 
made  to  give  scope  to  such  a  nature  as  his.  There  he  talked  on 
paper  in  association  with  an  imaginary  club,  and  under  an 
anonymous  signature.  No  curious  eyes  made  his  tongue  falter ; 
34 


398  THE     LAY     PREACHER. 

no  pert  sarcasm  brought  a  flush  to  his  cheek.  In  the  calm  exer- 
cise of  his  benign  fancy  and  wise  criticism,  he  made  his  daily 
comments  upon  the  fashion,  literature,  and  characters  of  the  day, 
"with  all  the  playful  freedom  of  coffee-house  discussion,  united  to 
the  thoughtful  style  of  private  meditation.  Thus  his  sensitive 
mind  had  full  expression,  while  his  native  modesty  was  spared ; 
and  the  Spectator  was  his  confessional,  where  he  uttered  his 
thoughts  candidly  in  the  ear  of  the  public,  without  being  awed 
by  its  obvious  presence.  Taste,  and  not  enthusiasm,  inspired 
Addison ;  hence  his  slender  claim  to  the  title  of  a  poet.  His 
rhymes,  even  when  faultless  and  the  vehicles  of  noble  thoughts, 
rarely  glow  with  sentiment.  They  are  usually  studied,  graceful, 
correct,  but  devoid  of  poetic  significance ;  and  yet,  owing  to  the 
dearth  of  poetry  in  his  day,  and  the  partialities  incident  to  friend- 
ship and  to  faction,  Addison  enjoyed  an  extensive  reputation  as  a 
poet.  There  are  beautiful  turns  of  expression  in  his  '^Letter 
from  Italy,"  —  usually  considered  the  best  of  his  occasional 
poems.  The  famous  simile  of  the  angel  and  some  animated 
rhetoric  redeem  "  The  Campaign  "  from  entire  mediocrity  ;  and 
scholars  will  find  numerous  instances  of  felicitous  rendering  into 
English  verse  in  his  translations.  Yet  these  incidental  merits 
do  not  give  Addison  any  rank  in  the  highest  department  of  liter- 
ature to  readers  familiar  with  Burns  and  Byron,  Coleridge  and 
"Wordsworth.  He  was  an  eloquent  rhymer,  but  no  legitimate 
votary  of  the  Muse.  It  is  the  dying  soliloquy  of  "  Cato  "  alone 
that  now  survives ;  and  yet  few  English  tragedies,  of  modem 
date,  were  introduced  with  such  eclat,  or  attended  by  more  tribu- 
tary offerings.  Pope,  Steele,  and  Dr.  Young,  sounded  its  praises 
in  verse  ;  the  Whig  party  espoused  it  as  a  classic  embodiment  of 
liberal  principles ;  and  its  production  has  been  called  the  grand 
clima<;teric  of  Addison's  reputation.  On  the  night  of  its  first 
representation,  we  are  told  that  the  author  "  wandered  behind 
the  scenes  with  restless  and  unappeasable  solicitude."  So  far 
as  immediate  success  may  be  deemed  a  test  of  ability,  he  had 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the  result.  The  play  was  acted  at 
London  and  Oxford  for  many  nights,  with  great  applause. 
"  Cato,"  writes  Pope,  *'  was  not  so  much  the  wonder  of  Rome 
in  his  days,  as  he  is  of  Britain  in  ours."     What  revolutions  in 


JOSEPH    ADDISON.  399 

public  taste  have  since  occurred ;  and  how  difficult  is  it  to  rec- 
oncile the  admiration  this  drama  excited  with  the  subsequent 
appreciation  of  Shakspeare  !  Even  as  a  classic  play,  how  infe- 
rior in  beauty  of  diction,  grandeur  of  sentiment,  and  richness  of 
metaphor,  to  the  Grecian  theme  which  the  lamented  Talfourd 
vitalized  with  Christian  sentiment,  and  arrayed  in  all  the  charms 
of  poetic  art !  Neither  the  fifty  guineas  that  Bolingbroke  pre- 
sented to  the  actor  who  personated  Cato,  nor  the  Prologue  of 
Pope,  could  buoy  up  this  lifeless  though  scholarly  performance 
on  the  tide  of  fame.  The  whole  career  of  Addison  as  a  writer  of 
verse  yields  new  evidence  of  the  inefficacy  of  erudition,  taste,  and 
even  a  sense  of  the  beautiful,  and  good  literary  judgment,  where 
poetry  is  the  object.  There  must  be  a  divine  instinct,  a  fervor 
of  soul,  "  an  idea  dearer  than  self,"  or  the  mechanism  of  verse  is 
alone  produced. 

Addison  was  not  a  man  of  ardent  feelings.  The  emotional  in 
his  nature  was  checked  and  chilled  by  prudence,  by  discipline, 
and  by  reflection.  We  can  discover  but  one  native  sentiment  that 
glowed  in  his  heart  to  a  degree  which  justified  its  poetical  expres- 
sion, and  that  is  devotion.  Compare  his  hymns  —  evidently  the 
overflowing  of  gratitude,  trust,  and  veneration  —  with  his  frigid 
drama  and  his  political  verses.  There  is  a  genuine  and  a  memo- 
rable earnestness  in  these  religious  odes.  They  were  the  offspring 
of  his  experience,  prompted  by  actual  states  of  mind,  and  accord- 
ingly, they  still  find  a  place  in  our  worship  and  linger  in  our 
memories.  "  The  earliest  compositions  that  I  recollect  taking  any 
pleasure  in,"  says  Burns,  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  More,  "were  'The 
Vision  of  Mirza,'  and  a  rhyme  of  Addison's,  beginning  'How  are 
thy  servants  blest,  0  Lord  !  '  I  particularly  remember  one  half- 
stanza,  which  was  music  to  my  boyish  ear : 

*  For  though  in  dreadful  whirls  we  hung 
High  on  the  broken  wave.'  '* 

The  hymn  referred  to  was  suggested  by  the  writer's  providential 
escape  during  a  fearful  storm  encountered  on  the  coast  of  Italy. 

An  able  critic  remarks  that  the  love-scenes  are  the  worst  in 
"Cato;"  and  there  is  no  rhymer  of  the  time  who  exhibits  so 
little  interest  in  the  tender  passion.     In  "The  Drummer"  and 


400  THE    LAY    PREACHER. 

"Rosamond"  there  are  indications  of  a  playful  invention  and 
fanciful  zest,  which,  like  the  most  characteristic  passages  of  the 
Spectator,  evince  that  Addison's  best  vein  was  the  humorous  and 
the  colloquial.  In  this  his  individuality  appears,  and  the  man 
shines  through  the  scholar  and  courtier.  We  forget  such  prosaic 
lines  ad 

*•  But  I  've  already  troubled  you  too  long,** 

with  which  he  closes  his  "Letter  from  Italy,"  and  think  of  him 
in  the  more  vivid  phase  of  a  kindly  censor  and  delightful  com- 
panion. 

The  "  Dialogues  on  Medals  "  is  the  most  characteristic  of  Addi- 
son's works  prior  to  the  Spectator.  The  subject,  by  its  classical 
associations,  elicited  his  scholarship  and  gratified  his  taste.  Re- 
garding "medallic  history"  as  "a  kind  of  printing  before  the  art 
was  invented,"  he  points  out  the  emblematic  and  suggestive  mean- 
ing of  coins  with  tact  and  discrimination,  and  illustrates  the 
details  of  numerous  medals  by  reference  to  the  Latin  poets.  In 
the  style  we  recognize  those  agreeable  turns  of  thought  and  graces 
of  language  which  soon  afterward  made  the  author  so  famous  in 
periodical  literature.  His  contemplative  mind  found  adecjuate 
hints  in  these  authentic  memorials  of  the  past,  and  it  was  evi- 
dently a  chai-ming  occupation  to  infer  from  the  garlands,  games, 
costume,  ships,  columns,  and  physiognomies,  thus  preserved  on 
metal,  the  history  of  the  wars  and  individuals  commemorated. 
His  numerous  translations,  political  essays,  and  letters,  are  now 
chiefly  interesting  as  illustrative  of  the  transitions  of  public  opin- 
ion, and  the  studies  and  social  relations  of  the  author.  In  his 
"  Remarks  on  Italy  "  there  are  curious  facts,  which  the  traveller 
of  our  day  may  like  to  compare  with  those  of  his  own  experience. 
The  tone  of  the  work  is  pleasant ;  but  its  specialiU  is  classical 
allusion,  and  to  modern  taste  it  savors  of  pedantry.  The  com- 
parative absence  of  earnest  poetical  feeling  is  manifest  throughout. 
The  reader  who  has  wandered  over  the  Italian  peninsula  with 
Childe  Harold  or  Corinnc  finds  Addison  rather  an  unattractive 
cicerone.  It  is  remarkable  that  he  was  so  rarely  inspired,  during 
the  memorable  journey,  by  those  associations  which  the  master- 
spirits of  Italian  and  English  literature  have  thrown  around  that 


JOSEPH     ADDISON.  401 

classic  land.  At  Yenice  he  is  not  haunted  by  "  the  gentle  lady 
wedded  to  the  Moor,"  nor  does  the  noble  Portia  rise  to  view;  he 
passes  through  Ferrara  without  a  thought  of  Tasso  or  Ariosto ; 
and  at  Ravenna  he  does  not  even  allude  to  the  tomb  of  Dante.  He 
seems  to  have  looked  upon  Fiesole  oblivious  of  Milton,  and  passed 
through  Yerona  heedless  of  Juliet's  tomb.  The  saints  and  Latin 
authors  won  his  entire  regard.  He  copied  a  sermon  of  St.  An- 
thony, at  Bologna,  and  a  letter  of  Henry  YHI.  to  Anne  Boleyn, 
in  the  Yatican.  His  observations  on  local  characteristics,  how- 
ever, are  intelligent ;  he  was  the  first  English  writer  to  describe 
San  Marino ;  and,  to  appreciate  this  work,  we  should  remember 
that  it  was  publislied  before  the  age  of  guide-books  and  steam,  and 
in  accordance  with  the  taste  for  classical  learning  and  the  need  of 
information  then  prevalent. 

To  the  majority  of  readers,  at  this  day,  the  Spectator  is  doubt- 
less a  tame  book.  They  miss,  in  its  pages,  the  rapid  succession 
of  incidents,  the  melodramatic  display,  and  the  rhetorical  vivacity, 
which  distinguish  modern  fiction  and  criticism.  Life  is  more 
crowded  with  events,  and  the  w^orld  of  opinion  more  diversified, 
society  is  more  complex,  and  knowledge  more  widely  difi'ased, 
than  at  that  day,  and  therefore  a  greater  intensity  marks  the 
experience  of  the  individual  and  the  products  of  literature.  But 
it  is  in  this  very  direction  that  popular  taste  is  at  fault ;  the  ovor- 
action,  the  moral  fever  and  restlessness  of  the  times,  have  infected 
writers  as  well  as  readers.  Both  are  dissatisfied  with  the  natural 
and  the  genuine,  and  have  recourse  to  artificial  stimulants  and 
conventional  expedients ;  and  these  are  as  certain  to  react  unfa- 
vorably in  habits  of  thought  and  in  authorship,  as  in  scientific  and 
practical  affairs.  It  is  to  this  tendency  to  conform  the  art  of 
writing  to  the  standard  of  a  locomotive  and  experimental  age  that 
we  ascribe  the  tricks  of  pen-craft  so  much  in  vogue. 

Constable,  the  painter,  used  to  complain  of  the  bravura  style 
of  landscape,  —  the  attempt  to  do  something  beyond  truth,  —  and 
he  defined  the  end  of  art  to  be  the  union  of  imagination  with 
nature.  This  is  equally  true  of  literature.  It  is  now  faint  praise 
to  apply  such  epithets  as  "quiet,"  '"thoughtful,"  and  "discrim- 
inating," to  a  book;  but  is  it  not  the  very  nature  of  written 
thought  and  sentiment  to  address  the  contemplative  and  emotional 
34* 


402  THE    LAY    PREACHER. 

nature  through  the  calm  attention  of  the  reader  ?  Can  we  appre- 
ciate the  merits  even  of  a  picture  without  a  long  and  patient 
scrutiny;  or  enter  into  the  significance  of  an  author  without 
abstracting  the  mind  from  bustle,  excitement,  and  care?  A 
receptive  mood  is  as  needful  as  an  eloquent  style.  Paradise  Lost 
was  never  intended  to  be  read  in  a  rail-car,  nor  the  Life  of  Wash- 
inorton  to  be  written  in  the  form  of  a  melodrama. 

o 

An  author  or  reader  whose  taste  was  formed  on  the  Addisonian 
or  even  the  Johnsonian  model,  would  be  puzzled  at  the  modifica- 
tions our  vernaculiir  has  undergone.  The  introversion  of  phrases, 
the  coining  of  words,  the  mystical  expressions,  the  aphoristic 
and  picturesque  style  adopted  by  recent  and  favorite  writers, 
would  strike  the  novice,  as  they  do  every  reader  of  unperverted 
taste,  as  intolerable  affectations,  or  mere  verbal  inventions  to  con- 
ceal poverty  of  ideas.  The  more  original  a  man's  thought  is,  the 
more  direct  is  its  utterance.  Genuine  feeling  seeks  the  most  sim- 
ple expression.  Just  in  proportion  as  what  is  said  comes  from  the 
individual's  own  mind  and  heart,  is  his  manner  of  saying  it  natu- 
ral. Accordingly,  the  verbal  ingenuity  of  many  popular  writers 
of  the  day  is  a  presumptive  evidence  of  their  want  of  originality. 
Truth  scorns  disguise,  and  an  author,  as  well  as  any  other  man, 
who  is  in  earnest,  relies  jipon  his  thought,  and  not  its  attire.  The 
priceless  merit  of  Addison  is  his  fidelity  to  this  law  of  simplicity 
and  directness  of  language ;  and  those  who  cannot  revert  to 
his  pages  with  satisfaction  may  justly  suspect  the  decadence  of 
their  literary  taste.  The  true  lover  of  nature,  when  released 
a  while  from  the  crowd  and  turmoil  of  metropolitan  life,  rejoices, 
as  he  stands  before  a  rural  scene,  to  find  his  sense  of  natural 
beauty  and  his  relish  of  calm  retirement  unimpaired  by  the  pleas- 
ures and  the  business  of  the  town.  His  mind  expands,  his  heart 
is  soothed,  and  his  whole  self-consciousness  elevated,  by  the  famil- 
iar and  endeared,  though  long-neglected  landscape.  Thus  is  it 
with  books.  If  we  have  remained  true  to  the  fountains  of  "  Eng- 
lish undefiled"  amid  the  glaring  and  spasmodic  allurements  of 
later  authors,  the  tranquil  tone,  the  clear  diction,  and  the  har- 
monized expression  of  Addison  will  afiect  us  like  the  permanent 
efiiilgence  of  a  star  when  the  flashing  curve  of  a  rocket  has  gone 
out  in  darkness.    There  are  in  the  style  of  writing,  as  well  as  in 


JOSEPH     ADDISON.  403 

the  economy  of  life,  conservative  principles ;  and  the  return  to 
these,  after  repeated  experiments,  is  the  best  evidence  of  their 
value.  Already  a  whole  group  of  writers  of  English  prose,  whose 
books  had  an  extraordinary  sale  and  a  fishionable  repute,  are 
quite  neglected.  When  libraries  are  founded,  or  standard  books 
desired,  the  intelligent  -purveyor  ignores  these  specimens  of  gal- 
vanized literature,  and  chooses  only  writings  that  have  a  vital 
basis  of  fact  or  language.  This  quality  is  the  absolute  condition 
of  the  permanent  popularity  of  books  in  our  vernacular  tongue. 
There  is  a  certain  honesty  in  its  very  structure  which  recoils  from 
artifice  as  the  presage  of  decay.  The  manliness,  the  truth,  and 
the  courage,  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  exact  these  traits  in  their 
literature.  Coarseness  such  as  deforms  De  Foe's  graphic  stories, 
elaborate  phrases  like  those  that  give  an  elephantine  movement 
to  Dr.  Johnson's  style,  fanciful  conceits  such  as  occasionally 
dwarf  the  eloquence  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  are  all  defects  that  are 
referable  to  the  age  or  the  temperament  of  the  respective  authors, 
and  do  not,  in  the  least,  aifect  the  reality  of  their  fame,  which 
rests  on  a  sincere,  original,  and  brave  use  of  their  mother  tongue ; 
but  when  inferior  minds  attempt  to  perpetuate  commonplace  sen- 
timents 'or  borrowed  thoughts  in  a  harlequin  guise  made  up  of 
shreds  and  patches  of  the  English  language,  joined  together  by  a 
foreign  idiom,  or  a  mosaic  of  new  and  unauthorized  words,  the 
experiment  is  repudiated,  sooner  or  later,  by  the  veto  of  instinctive 
good  taste. 

Addison  commenced  writing  when  literature  was  mainly  sus- 
tained by  official  patronage  —  in  the  age  of  witty  coteries,  of 
elegant  dedications.  Chiefly  in  political  and  scholarly  circles 
were  the  votaries  of  letters  to  be  found.  The  Spectator  widened 
the  range  of  literature,  rendering  it  a  domestic  enjoyment  and  a 
social  agency;  it  organized  a  lay  priesthood,  and  gradually 
infused  the  elements  of  philosophy  and  taste  into  conversation. 
Although  the  Observator  of  L' Estrange,  the  Rehearsals  of  Leslie, 
and  De  Foe's  Review,  preceded  the  Tatler,  those  pioneer  essays 
at  periodical  writing  were  mainly  devoted  to  questions  of  the  hour, 
and  to  the  wants  of  the  masses ;  they  did  not,  like  the  work  which 
Addison's  pen  made  classic,  deal  with  the  minor  morals,  the 
refinements  of  criticism,  and  the  niceties  of  human  character. 


404  THE     LAY     PREACHER. 

No  literary  enterprise  before  achieved  exerted  so  direct  an  influ- 
ence upon  society,  or  induced  the  same  degree  of  individual  cul- 
ture. Its  singular  adaptation  to  the  English  mind  is  evinced  not 
more  by  its  immediate  influence,  than  by  the  permanent  form  of 
instruction  and  entertainment  it  initiated.  It  was  the  prolific 
source  of  the  invaluable  array  of  publications  which  reached  their 
acme  of  excellence  in  the  best  days  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  and 
Blackwood's  Magazine,  and  which  continue  now,  in  the  shape  of 
Household  Words,  and  of  the  choicest  monthly  and  quarterly 
journals,  to  represent  every  school  of  opinion  and  class  of  society, 
and  to  illustrate  and  modify  the  ways  of  thinking  and  the  stylo 
of  expression  of  two  great  nations.  No  works  have  ever  gone  so 
near  the  sympathies  of  unprofessional  readers,  or  reflected  more 
truly  the  life  and  thought  of  successive  eras ;  none  have  enlisted 
such  a  variety  of  talent,  or  more  genially  tempered  and  enlight- 
ened the  common  mind. 

When  the  Spectator  flourished,  the  stern  inelegance  of  the 
Puritan  era,  and  the  profligate  tone  which  succeeded  it,  yet  lin- 
gered around  the  written  thought  of  England ;  while  the  French 
school  represented  by  Congreve,  the  coarseness  and  spite  of  Swift;, 
and  the  unsparing  satire  of  Pope,  frequently  made  literary  talent 
the  minister  of  unhallowed  passions  and  depraved  taste.  To  all 
this  the  pure  and  benign  example  of  Addison  was  a  delightful 
contrast.  His  censorship  was  tempered  with  good  feeling,  his 
expression  untainted  with  vulgarity ;  he  was  familiar,  without 
losing  refinement  of  tone  ;  he  used  language  as  a  crystal  medium 
to  enshrine  sense,  and  not  as  a  grotesque  costume  to  hide  the 
want  of  it ;  he  was  above  the  conceits  of  false  wit,  and  too  much 
of  a  Christian  to  profane  his  gifts ;  in  a  word,  he  wrote  like  a 
gentleman  and  a  scholar,  and  yet  without  the  fine  airs  of  the  one 
or  the  pedantry  of  the  other.  He  first  exposed  the  lesser  incon- 
gruities of  human  conduct,  which  no  law  or  theology  had  assailed; 
he  discussed  neglected  subjects  of  value  and  interest ;  and  gave 
new  zest  to  the  common  resources  of  daily  life  by  placing  them 
in  an  objective  light.  Then,  too,  by  giving  a  colloquial  tone  to 
writing,  he  brought  it  within  the  range  of  universal  sympathy, 
and  made  it  a  source  of  previously  unimagined  pleasure  and 
instruction. 


JOSEPH     ADDISON.  405 

Addison's  relation  to  Steele  was  one  of  mutual  advantage ;  for, 
although  the  improvidence  of  "  poor  Dick  "  gave  his  virtuous 
friend  constant  anxiety,  on  the  other  hand,  Sir  Richard's  easy 
temper  and  frank  companionship  lowered  his  classic  Mentor  from 
stilts,  and  promoted  his  access  to  their  common  readers.  It  is 
obvious  that  the  social  tone  of  the  Spectator  is  as  much  owing  to 
Steele  as  its  grace  and  humor  are  to  Addison.  Indeed,  their 
friendship,  like  those  of  Gray  and  Walpole,  Johnson  and  Gold- 
smith, and,  as  a  more  recent  instance,  Wilkie  and  Haydon,  was 
founded  on  diversity  of  character.  Steele's  vivacious  tempera- 
ment and  knowledge  of  the  world  supplied  the  author  of  Cato 
with  the  glow  and  aptitude  he  needed,  while  the  latter's  high 
principle  and  rigid  taste  felicitously  modified  his  companion's 
recklessness.  If  the  one  was  a  fine  scholar,  the  other  was  a  most 
agreeable  gentleman ;  if  the  one  was  correct,  the  other  was  genial: 
if  the  one  had  reliable  taste,  the  other  had  noble  impulses ;  —  so 
that  between  them  there  was  a  beautiful  representative  humanity. 
Macaulay  attributes  the  execution  which  Addison  levied  on 
Steele's  house  to  resentment  at  his  ungrateful  extravagance ;  but 
the  editor  of  the  new  edition,  before  noticed,  justly  modifies,  in  a 
note,  the  extreme  language  of  the  text.  We  think,  with  him,  that 
Addison's  severity,  in  this  instance,  was  more  apparent  than  real; 
for  he  declared  that  his  object  was  to  "  awaken  him  [Steele]  from 
a  lethargy  which  must  end  in  his  inevitable  ruin."  That  no 
alienation  occurred  is  evident  from  the  preface  that  Steele  wrote 
for  his  edition  of  "  The  Drummer,"  which  is  eloquent  with  love 
and  admiration  for  his  departed  friend. 

In  that  delectable  creation  of  Addison,  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley, 
we  recognize,  as  it  were,  the  first  outline  or  cartoon  of  those 
studies  of  character  which  have  since  given  their  peculiar  charm 
to  English  fictions  and  essays.  In  no  other  literature  is  discov- 
erable the  combination  of  humor  and  good  sense,  of  rare  virtue 
and  harmless  eccentricities,  which  stamp  the  best  of  these  produc- 
tions with  an  enduring  interest.  Before  the  advent  of  Sir  Roger 
delicate  shades  of  characterization  had  not  been  attempted,  satire 
was  comparatively  gross,  and  the  excitement  of  adventure  was  the 
chief  charm  of  narrative.  But  Addison  drew,  with  a  benignant 
yet  keen  touch,  the  foibles  and  the  goodness  of  heart  of  his  ideal 


406  THE     LAY     PREACHER. 

country  gentleman,  and  thus  gave  the  precedent  whereby  the  art 
of  the  moralist  was  refined  and  elevated.  Compared,  indeed, 
with  subsequent  heroes  of  romance,  Sir  Roger  is  a  shadowy 
creature ;  but  none  the  less  lovable  for  the  simple  role  assigned 
him,  and  the  negative  part  he  enacts.  He  is  the  legitimate  pre- 
cursor of  Squire  Western,  Parson  Adams,  the  Man  of  Feeling, 
and  Pickwick.  In  the  portrait  gallery  of  popular  English 
authors  we  gratefully  hail  Addison  as  the  literary  ancestor  of 
Fielding,  Sterne,  Mackenzie,  Lamb,  Irving,  and  Dickens.  The 
diversity  of  their  style  and  the  originality  of  their  characters  do 
not  invalidate  the  succession,  any  more  than  Leonardo's  clear 
outline  and  Raphael's  inimitable  expression  repudiate  the  claims, 
as  their  artistic  progenitors,  of  Giotto  and  Perugino.  It  is  a  curi- 
ous experiment,  however,  to  turn  from  the  brilliant  characters 
which  now  people  the  domain  of  the  novelist,  and  revert  to  this 
primitive  figure,  as  fresh  and  true  as  when  first  revealed  at  the 
breakfast-tables  of  London  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne.  Addison 
thus  rescued  the  lineaments  of  the  original  English  country  gen- 
tleman, and  kept  them  bright  and  genuine  for  the  delight  of 
posterity,  ere  their  individuality  was  lost  in  the  uniform  traits  of 
a  locomotive  age.  It  is  surprising  that  features  so  delicately 
pictured,  incidents  so  undramatic,  and  sentiments  so  free  from 
extravagance,  should  thus  survive  intact.  It  is  the  nicety  of  the 
execution  and  the  harmony  of  the  character  that  preserve  it. 
Walpole  compares  Sir  Roger  to  Falstaff,  doubtless  with  reference 
to  the  rare  humor  which  stamps  and  immortalizes  both,  however 
diverse  in  other  respects. 

We  seem  to  know  Sir  Roger  as  a  personal  acquaintance,  and  an 
habitue  of  some  manorial  dwelling  familiar  to  our  school-days ; 
there  is  not  a  whim  of  his  we  can  afford  to  lose,  or  a  virtue  we 
would  ever  cease  to  honor  and  love.  His  choice  of  a  chaplain 
who  would  not  insult  him  with  Latin  and  Greek  at  his  own  table, 
and  whose  excellence  as  a  preacher  he  secured  by  a  present  of 
"  all  the  good  sermons  that  had  been  printed  ; "  his  habit  of  pro- 
longing the  psalm-tune  a  minute  after  the  congregation  were 
hushed,  of  always  engaging  on  the  Thames  a  bargeman  with  a 
wooden  leg,  of  talking  pleasantly  all  the  way  up  stairs  to  the 
servant  who  ushered  him  into  a  drawing-room,  of  "  clearing  his 


JOSEPH    ADDISON.  407 

pipes  in  good  air  "  by  a  morning  promenade  in  Gray's  Inn  Walks, 
of  inquiring  as  to  the  strength  of  the  axletree  before  trusting  him- 
self in  a  hackney-coach,  of  standing  up  before  the  play  to  survey 
complacently  the  throng  of  happy  faces, —  these,  and  many  other 
peculiarities,  are  to  our  consciousness  like  the  endeared  oddities 
of  a  friend,  part  of  his  identity,  and  associated  with  his  memory. 
Gracefully  into  the  web  of  Sir  Roger's  quaint  manners  did  Addi- 
son weave  a  golden  thread  of  sentiment.  His  relations  to  his 
household  and  tenants,  his  universal  salutations  in  town,  and  his 
"  thinking  of  the  widow  "  in  lapses  of  conversation,  are  natural 
touches  in  this  delightful  picture.  We  see  him  alight  and  take 
the  spent  hare  in  his  arms  at  the  close  of  a  hunt, —  shake  the 
cicerone  at  the  Abbey  by  the  hand  at  parting,  and  invite  him  to 
his  lodgings  to  ''talk  over  these  matters  more  at  leisure,"  —  chide 
an  importunate  beggar,  and  {hen  give  him  a  sixpence,  —  order 
the  coachman  to  stop  at  a  tobacconist's  and  treat  himself  to  a 
roll  of  the  best  Virginia,  —  look  reverently  at  Dr.  Busby's  statue 
because  the  famous  pedagogue  had  whipped  his  grandfather. 
These  anecdotes  give  reality  to  the  conception.  It  would  not  be 
thoroughly  English,  however,  without  a  dash  of  philosophy ;  and 
we  are  almost  reconciled  to  Sir  Roger's  ill-success  in  love  with 
"one  of  those  unaccountable  creatures  that  secretly  rejoice  in  the 
admii-ation  of  men,  but  indulge  themselves  in  no  further  conse- 
quences," by  its  influence  on  his  character.  "This  affliction  in 
my  life,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "  has  streaked  all  my  conduct  with  a 
softness  of  which  I  should  otherwise  have  been  incapable."  We 
envy  the  Spectator  the  privilege  of  taking  this  "fine  old  English 
gentleman"  to  the  play,  and  enjoying  his  "natural  criticism;" 
we  honor  Addison  for  his  veto  upon  Steele's  attempt  to  debauch 
this  nobleman  of  nature,  and  deem  it  worthy  of  a  poet  to  resolve 
upon  his  hero's  final  exit,  rather  than  submit  to  so  base  an  alter- 
native ;  and  we  feel  that  it  would  have  been  quite  impossible  to 
listen,  at  the  club,  unmoved  by  the  butler's  epistle  describing  his 
tranquil  departure,  from  the  moment  he  ceased  to  be  able  "  to 
touch  a  sirloin,"  until  the  slab  of  the  Coverley  vault  closed  over 
his  remains. 

The  zest  of  this  favorite  creation  of  Addison  is  increased  by 
the  remembrance  we  have  of  a  tendency  to  more  spirited  life  in- 


408  THE    LAY    PREACHER. 

youth  J  when  Sir  Roger  went  all  the  way  to  Grand  Cairo  to  take 
the  measure  of  a  pyramid,  fought  a  duel,  and  kicked  "  Bully 
Dawson."  This  lively  episode  brings  into  strong  relief  the  long 
years  of  quiet  respectability,  when  his  chief  pastime  was  a  game 
of  backgammon  with  the  chaplain,  and  his  architectural  enthusi- 
asm was  confined  to  admiration  of  London  Bridge,  and  a  bequest 
to  build  a  steeple  for  the  village  church.  His  habits  are  so  well 
known  to  us,  that,  if  we  were  to  meet  him  in  Soho  Square,  where 
he  always  lodged  when  in  town,  we  should  expect  an  invitation  to 
take  a  glass  of  "Mrs.  Trueby's  water;"  and,  if  the  encounter 
occurred  under  those  trees  which  shaded  his  favorite  walk  at  Co- 
verley  Hall,  we  should  not  feel  even  a  momentary  surprise  to 
hear  him  instantly  begin  to  talk  of  the  widow.  If  Steele  gave 
the  first  hint,  and  Tickell  and  Budgell  contributed  part  of  the 
outline,  the  soul  of  this  character  is  alone  due  to  Addison ;  his 
delicate  and  true  hand  gave  it  color  and  expression,  and  therefore 
unity  of  effect ;  and  it  proved  the  model  lay  figure  of  subsequent 
didactic  writers,  upon  which  hang  gracefully  the  mantles  of  char- 
ity and  the  robes  of  practical  wisdom.  Sir  Roger  in  the  country, 
at  the  club,  the  theatre,  or  at  church,  in  love,  and  on  the  bench, 
was  the  herald  of  that  swarm  of  heroes  whose  situations  are  made 
to  illustrate  the  varied  circles  of  society  and  aspects  of  life  in 
modern  fiction. 

It  was  in  the  form  and  relations  of  literature,  however,  that  Ad- 
dison chiefly  wrought  great  improvement ;  and  there  is  reason  for 
the  comparative  want  of  interest  which  his  writings  excite  at  the 
present  day,  when  we  pass  from  the  amenities  of  style  to  the 
claims  of  humanity  and  of  truth.  A  more  profound  clement  lurked 
in  popular  writing  than  the  chaste  essayist  of  Queen  Anne's  day 
imagined  ;  and  since  the  climax  of  social  and  political  life  re:ilized 
by  the  French  revolution,  questions  of  greater  moment  than  the 
speculations  of  a  convivial  club,  a  significance  in  human  existence 
deeper  than  the  amiable  whims  of  a  country  gentleman,  and 
phases  of  society  infinitely  higher  than  those  involved  in  criticism 
on  points  of  manners  and  taste,  have  become  subjects  of  popular 
thought  and  discussion.  Accordingly,  there  is  more  earnestness 
and  a  greater  scope  in  periodical  literature.  Minds  of  a  lofty 
order,  sympathies  of  a  deep  and  philosophic  nature,  have  been 


JOSEPH     ADDISON.  409 

enlisted  in  this  sphere.  Carlyle,  Stephens,  Foster,  and  De  Quin- 
cej,  have  given  it  a  new  character.  The  copious  knowledge  and 
eloquent  diction  of  Macaulay,  the  rich  common-sense  and  ready 
wit  of  Sydney  Smith,  the  brilliant  analysis  of  Jeffrey,  the  subtile 
critiques  of  Hazlitt  and  Lamb,  the  exuberant  zest  of  Wilson  and 
a  host  of  other  writers,  have  rendered  the  casual  topics  and  every- 
day characters  of  which  the  Spectator  often  tieats  unimpressive 
in  the  comparison.  It  is  therefore  mainly  as  a  reformer  of  style, 
and  as  the  benevolent  and  ingenious  pioneer  of  a  new  and  most 
influential  class  of  writers,  that  we  now  honor  Addison. 

It  was  at  first  his  intention  to  enter  the  clerical  profession ; 
but  all  of  aptitude  for  that  ofiBce  he  possessed  found  scope  and 
emphasis  in  his  literary  career.  He  ministered  effectually  at  the 
altar  of  humanity,  not  indeed  to  its  deepest  wants,  but  most  sea- 
sonably, and  with  rare  success.  The  license  and  brutality  of 
temper  were  checked  by  his  kindly  censure  and  pure  example ; 
the  latent  beauties  of  works  of  genius  were  made  evident  to  the 
general  perception;  manners  were  refined,  taste  promoted,  the 
religious  sentiment  twined  into  the  daily  web  of  popular  litera- 
ture ;  while  spleen,  artifice,  vulgarity,  and  self-love,  were  rebuked 
by  a  corps  of  lay  preachers,  whose  lectures  were  more  influential, 
because  conveyed  under  the  guise  of  colloquial  and  friendly  hints 
rather  than  sermons.  Addison  gave  to  literature  a  respectability 
which  it  seldom  possessed  before.  He  became  the  ideal  of  an 
author.  .  His  studies,  observation,  and  benevolence,  were  turned 
into  a  fountain  of  usefulness  and  entertainment  open  to  the  mul- 
titude. He  helped  to  dig  the  channel  which  connects  the  stream 
of  private  knowledge  with  the  popular  mind,  across  the  isthmus 
of  an  aristocracy  of  birth,  of  education,  and  of  society :  thus  cre- 
ating the  grand  distinction  between  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  the 
Southern  European  nations,  as  to  intelligence,  activity,  and  the 
capacity  of  self-government.  It  is  in  this  historical  point  of  view, 
and  as  related  to  the  improvement  of  society  and  the  amelioration 
of  literature,  that  Addison  deserves  gratitude  and  respect.  He 
was  not  a  profound  original  thinker ;  he  did  not  battle  for  great 
truths;  timid,  modest,  yet  gifted  and  graceful,  his  mission  was 
conservative  and  humane,  rather  than  bold  and  creative ;  yet  it 
was  adapted  to  the  times  and  fraught  with  blessings. 
35 


410  THE    LAY    PREACHER. 

Addison,  therefore,  illustrates  the  amenities,  and  not  the  hero- 
ism, of  literature.  The  almost  feminine  grace  of  his  mind  was 
unfavorable  to  its  hardihood  and  enterprise.  Both  his  virtues 
and  his  failings  partook  of  the  same  character ;  kindliness,  pru- 
dence, and  serenity,  rather  than  courage  and  generosity,  kept 
him  from  moral  evil,  and  won  for  him  confidence  and  love.  He 
was  reserved,  except  when  under  the  influence  of  intimate  com- 
panions, or  ''thawed  by  wine;"  could  ill  bear  rivalry  or  inter- 
ference, and  even  when  consulted,  would  only  "hint  a  fault  and 
hesitate  dislike;"  and  thus  in  letters  and  in  life  he  occupied  that 
safe  and  pleasant  table-land  unvexed  by  the  storms  that  invade 
mountain  heights  and  craggy  sea-shore.  Such  a  man,  at  subse- 
quent and  more  agitated  epochs  in  the  history  of  English  litera- 
ture, would  have  made  but  little  impression  upon  the  thought  of 
the  age ;  but,  in  his  times,  an  example  of  self-respect  and  gentle- 
ness, of  refinement  and  Christian  sentiment  in  authorship,  had  a 
peculiar  value.  There  are  two  excellences  which  have  chiefly 
preserved  his  influence,  — his  rare  humor,  and  the  peculiar  adapt- 
ation of  his  style  to  periodical  literature.  Lamb  traces  the  latter, 
in  a  degree,  to  Sir  William  Temple ;  but  Addison  declared  that 
Tillotson  was  his  model.  The  description  of  Johnson  is  charac- 
teristic and  just :  "He  is  never  feeble,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  be 
energetic ;  he  is  never  rapid,  and  he  never  stagnates ;  his  sen- 
tences have  neither  studied  amplitude  nor  affected  brevity ;  his 
periods,  though  not  diligently  rounded,  are  voluble  and  easy."  It 
is,  however,  the  colloquial  tone,  fusing  these  qualities  into  an  har- 
monious whole,  that  renders  Addison's  style  at  once  popular  and 
classic.  His  conversation  was  not  less  admirable  than  his  writing; 
and  when  we  consider  how  large  a  portion  of  time  was  given  by 
the  English  authors  of  that  day  to  companionship  and  talk,  we 
can  easily  imagine  how  much  the  habit  influenced  their  pen-craft. 
Both  the  humor  and  the  colloquialism  of  the  Spectator  were  fos- 
tered by  social  agencies.  Addison,  says  Swift,  gave  the  first 
example  of  the  proper  use  of  wit ;  and,  as  an  instance,  he  remarks, 
"it  was  his  practice,  when  he  found  any  man  invincibly  wrong, 
to  flatter  his  opinions  by  acquiescence,  and  sink  them  yet  deeper 
into  absurdity." 

Even  partisan  spite  could  ascribe  to  Addison  no  greater  faults 


JOSEPH    ADDISON.  411 

than  fastidiousness,  dogmatism,  and  conviviality ;  and  for  these 
circumstances  afford  great  excuse.  The  oracle,  as  he  was,  of  a 
club,  referred  to  as  the  arbiter  of  literary  taste,  conscious  of  supe- 
rior tact  and  elegance  in  the  use  of  language,  and  impelled  by 
domestic  unbappiness  to  resort  to  a  tavern,  we  can  easily  make 
allowance  for  the  dictatorial  opinions  and  the  occasional  jollity  of 
''  the  great  Mr.  Addison;  "  and  when  we  compare  him  with  the 
scurrilous  and  dissipated  writers  of  his  day,  he  becomes  almost  a 
miracle  of  excellence.  There  was  in  his  character,  as  in  his  writ- 
mgs,  a  singular  evenness.  In  politics  a  moderate  Whig,  prudent, 
timid,  and  somewhat  cold  in  temperament,  his  kindliness  of  heart 
and  religious  principles,  his  wit  and  knowledge,  saved  from  merely 
negative  goodness  both  the  man  and  the  author.  Yet  a  neutral 
tint,  a  calm  tone,  a  repugnance  to  excess  in  style,  in  manners,  and 
in  opinion,  were  bis  characteristics.  He  lacked  emphasis  and  fire ; 
but  their  absence  is  fully  compensated  by  grace,  truth,  and  seren- 
ity. It  is  not  only  among  the  mountains  and  by  the  sea-shore 
that  Nature  hoards  her  beauty,  but  also  on  meadow-slopes  and 
around  sequestered  lakes ;  and  in  like  manner  human  life  and 
thought  have  their  phases  of  tranquil  attraction  and  genial  repose, 
as  well  as  of  sublime  and  impassioned  development. 


THE   AMERICAN   STATESMAN 

GOVERNEUR  MORRIS. 


There  is  an  efficiency  of  character  which,  like  the  latent 
forces  of  nature,  is  made  visible  only  by  its  results.  It  collects 
"with  the  quietude  of  the  electric  fluid,  and  is  silently  diflfused 
again  or  rapidly  discharged,  with  no  lingering  traces  of  its  ener- 
gies but  such  as  thoughtful  observation  reveals.  Unlike  the 
author  or  the  artist,  men  thus  endowed  build  up  no  permanent 
memorial  of  their  renown,  no  distinctive  and  characteristic  result 
of  their  lives,  like  a  statue  or  a  poem ;  neither  are  their  names 
always  associated  with  a  great  event  or  sacred  occasion,  like  those 
which  embalm  the  warrior's  fame.  Having  more  self-respect  than 
desire  of  glory,  their  great  object  is  immediate  utility ;  their 
thought  and  action  blend  with  and  often  direct  the  current  of 
events,  but  with  an  unostentatious  power  that  conceals  their 
agency.  As  the  dew  condenses  and  the  snow-flakes  are  woven, 
as  the  frost  colors  and  the  night-breeze  strips  the  forest,  they 
accomplish  great  changes  in  human  affairs,  and  exert  a  wide  and 
potent  sway,  without  any  parade  of  means,  and  by  a  process  that 
challenges  no  recognition.  It  is  only  when  we  attentively  mark 
the  effect  and  consider  the  method,  that  we  realize,  in  such 
instances,  what  may  be  called  the  genius  of  character. 

The  essential  difference  between  this  species  of  greatness  and 
that  which  is  tangibly  embodied  is  to  be  traced  to  the  fact  that 
in  the  former  direct  utility,  and  in  the  latter  abstract  taste,  is 
consulted ;  a  sense  of  truth,  of  right,  of  efficiency,  is  the  inspi- 


GOVERNEUR     MORRIS.  413 

ration  of  the  one,  and  a  sense  of  beauty  of  the  other.  The 
superiority  that  is  -wholly  intellectual  or  moral,  when  developed 
in  action,  and  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  society,  incarnates  itself 
too  widely,  sends  forth  too  liberal  ideas,  and  is  too  variously 
active,  to  provide  for  its  own  glory.  There  is  an  essential  disin- 
terestedness in  the  position  and  spirit  of  such  greatness.  Uncon- 
scious of  self,  absorbed  in  broad  views,  and  as  zealous  in  public 
spirit  as  ordinary  men  are  in  private  interest,  this  rare  and  noble 
class  of  beings  exercise  a  genial  supervision  and  providential 
wisdom,  with  a  dignity,  confidence,  and  good  faith,  that  as  clearly 
designate  them  to  be  legitimate  counsellors  in  national  affairs,  as 
the  appearance  of  a  great  epic  shows  the  advent  of  a  poet,  or  the 
spontaneous  apotheosis  of  a  hero  indicates  the  ordained  leader. 
The  American  Revolution  elicited  a  wonderful  degree  of  this 
species  of  character.  To  its  prevalence,  at  that  epoch,  has  been 
justly  ascribed  the  ultimate  success  of  the  experiment ;  for  all 
the  valor  displayed  in  the  camp  would  have  been  inadequate  had 
it  not  been  sustained  by  equal  wisdom  and  firmness  in  the  coun- 
cil. The  mind  of  the  country  was  enlisted  in  the  struggle  not 
less  than  its  bone  and  muscle ;  and  moral  kept  alive  physical 
courage.  The  undismayed  spirit  of  the  people  was,  in  a  great 
measure,  owing  to  a  sublime  trust  in  the  integrity  and  intelligence 
of  their  leaders  ;  and  these  qualities  were  sometimes  embodied  in 
an  unambitious,  devoted  activity,  more  versatile,  responsible,  and 
unpromising,  than  ever  before  engaged  the  gifted  spirits  of  a 
nation.  The  services  thus  rendered  were  often  utterly  devoid  of 
any  scope  for  distinction.  They  seldom  gave  any  vantage-ground 
to  the  desire  for  brilliant  results,  and  were  often  barren  even  of 
the  excitement  of  adventure.  They  were  grave,  matter-of-fact, 
and  discouraging  toils,  involving  more  personal  discomfort  than 
peril,  demanding  more  prudence  than  zeal,  and  more  patience 
than  ingenuity ;  and  yet  essential  to  the  great  end  in  view,  the 
prospect  and  hope  of  which  were  their  exclusive  motive.  To  this 
kind  of  fidelity  the  triumph  of  American  principles  is  to  be 
ascribed  ;  and,  instead  of  seeking  their  origin  in  men  of  extraor- 
dinary genius,  we  must  look  for  them  to  the  philosophy  of 
character. 

Few  American  civilians  offer  so  noble  an  example  as  Governeur 
85* 


414  THE     AMERICAN     STATESMAN. 

Morris.  One  of  his  ancestors  is  said  to  have  been  distinguished 
as  a  leader  in  Cromwell's  army.  Weary  of  military  life,  he  em- 
barked for  the  West  Indies,  and  thence  came  to  New  York,  where 
he  purchased  three  thousand  acres  of  land  with  manorial  privi- 
leges in  the  vicinity  of  Haerlem,  an  estate  still  known  as 
Morrissiana.  The  descendants  of  this  colonist  took  an  active  part 
in  public  affairs.  A  vein  of  eccentricity,  often  the  accompaniment 
of  originality  of  mind  and  independence  of  spirit,  seems  to  have 
always  marked  the  family. 

Governeur  Morris  was  born  on  the  paternal  domain,  January 
31,  1752.  His  boyhood  was  devoted  to  rambling  over  his  father's 
extensive  farm,  and  he  then  indulged  a  taste  for  rural  freedom  and 
enjoyment,  to  which  he  returned  in  later  years  with  undiminished 
zest  and  entire  contentment.  He  was  placed,  when  quite  young, 
with  a  French  teacher  at  New  Rochelle,  and  thus  acquired  the 
facility  in  that  language  which  proved  so  useful  to  him  during 
his  long  residence  in  France.  His  college  life  was  unusually 
brilliant,  chiefly  on  account  of  the  rhetorical  ability  to  which  it 
gave  scope  and  impulse  ;  and  he  was  eminent  for  his  attainments 
in  Latin  and  mathematics.  Graduating  with  honor  at  a  very  early 
age,  he  entered  with  zeal  upon  the  study  of  law,  and  was  just 
rising  to  professional  distinction  when  the  diffi  ulties  between 
Great  Britain  and  her  American  colonies  broke  out.  He  was 
soon  deeply  involved  in  the  responsible  toils  of  the  Revolution ; 
subsequently  removed  to  Philadelphia,  and  successfully  practised 
at  the  bar ;  went  abroad,  and  was  appointed  minister  to  France  ; 
travelled  extensively  after  being  freed  from  official  duties,  and 
returned  home  to  close  his  honorable  and  useful  career  in  the 
home  of  his  childhood.  Such  is  an  external  outline  of  the  life 
of  Governeur  Morris ;  but  the  details  abound  with  facts  seldom 
equalled  in  interest  and  value,  in  the  merely  civic  life  of  a  repub- 
lican. As  a  legislator,  financier,  political  essayist,  ambassador, 
orator,  and  private  gentleman,  Governeur  Morris  cooperated 
with  the  leading  spirits  of  a  revolutionary  age  rich  in  eminent 
characters ;  greatly  influenced  the  councils  which  ruled  the  des- 
tinies of  an  infant  nation ;  grappled,  with  bold  intelligence,  the 
chaotic  but  pregnant  elements  of  society  and  government ;  set  a 
noble  example  of  integrity  and  candor  as  an  ally  and  a  patriot ; 


GOVERNEUR     MORRIS.  415 

and  infused  a  philosophic  spirit  and  an  efficient  wisdom  into  every 
interest  and  sphere  with  which  he  came  in  contact. 

His  life  was  a  scene  of  versatile  activity.  He  carried  on  his 
law  practice,  congressional  duties,  secret  embassies,  and  extensive 
correspondence,  with  assiduity,  during  the  whole  American  war ; 
while  abroad,  he  engaged  in  large  mercantile  speculations,  prose- 
cuted private  claims,  was  an  habltid  of  the  best  society,  and 
faithfully  discharged  absorbing  diplomatic  obligations. 

His  diary  in  France,  a  collection  of  hasty  data,  evinces  an 
uninterrupted  and  efficient  activity,  calling  for  the  constant  exer- 
cise of  sagacity,  wisdom,  and  reflection ;  while  he  used  to  declare 
that  the  multiplicity  of  his  duties  at  home,  during  the  seven  years 
succeeding  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  notwithstanding 
habits  of  method  and  application,  prevented  his  keeping  any  notes 
of  his  own  remarkable  experience. 

The  American  traveller  in  Europe  is  struck  with  the  fre 
quency  of  inscriptions,  on  public  works,  announcing  the  prince  or 
pontiif  to  whose  benevolent  zeal  any  local  improvement  is  attrib- 
utable. To  perpetuate,  in  every  manner,  the  memory  of  national 
benefactors,  is  one  of  the  conservative  features  of  hereditary  rule. 
With  us  it  is  quite  otherwise.  The  process  of  national  growth 
seems  to  go  on,  in  republics,  like  the  development  of  nature ;  a 
constant  alternation  of  forces,  each  destined  to  be  absorbed  in  the 
other ;  the  deeds  of  one  generation  to  fertilize  the  arena  of  the 
next ;  and  the  future  to  be  so  exclusively  contemplated  as  to  shut 
out  of  view  the  past.  It  is  on  this  account  that  literature  should 
attest  departed  worth,  with  authentic  and  careful  emphasis,  in  a 
republic ;  and  especially  strive  to  do  justice  to  those  unpretend- 
ing yet  essential  merits  which  result  from  character  rather  than 
genius,  and,  like  the  strains  of  great  vocalists,  leave  no  record  but 
that  which  lingers  in  the  souls  they  have  warmed  and  exalted. 
A  brief  synopsis  of  the  public  life  of  Groverneur  Morris  will  give 
but  an  inadequate  idea  of  its  utility  ;  but  it  may  serve  to  illus- 
trate its  scope  and  aim.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  began  to 
enlighten  the  minds  of  his  countrymen  on  a  subject  of  vital 
moment  to  their  interests,  but  in  regard  to  which  their  provincial 
experience  had  afforded  them  little  insight.  Political  economy 
was  then  a  science  in  embryo,  and  finance  a  branch  very  imper- 


416  THE    AMERICAN    STATESMAN. 

fectlj  understood ;  questions  relating  to  the  principles  of  trade, 
debt  and  credit,  exchange,  and  a  circulating  medium,  were  rife 
in  the  different  states,  "when  the  adventurous  stripling  astonished 
his  elders  by  the  original  views,  the  acute  reasoning,  and  the 
thorough  knowledge,  with  which  he  discussed  them  in  the  jour- 
nals of  the  day.  These,  and  subsequent  financial  essays,  both 
instructed  and  influenced  public  sentiment,  and  prepared  the  way 
for  whatever  liberal  and  enlightened  policy  on  this  and  kindred 
subjects  was  adopted. 

The  reputation  of  Governeur  Morris,  by  these  precocious  writ- 
ings, and  several  eloquent  pleas  to  juries,  was  thus  very  early 
established  in  the  colony.  He  was  accordingly  chosen  a  member 
of  the  first  Provincial  Congress ;  and  regularly  afterwards  took 
his  seat  in  the  various  assemblies  there  originated,  under  the  names 
of  Convention,  Committee  of  Safety,  and  Congress,  until  he  was 
duly  elected  to  the  Continental  Congress.  In  these  bodies  his 
abilities  were  continually  tasked,  as  a  parliamentary  orator,  a  pri- 
vate counsellor,  and  an  efficient  agent.  He  passed  the  hours  be- 
tween eleven  and  three  in  the  House,  despatched,  at  intervals,  his 
professional  affairs,  and  transacted  the  business  of  three  committees 
of  which  he  was  chairman  —  those  on  the  commissary,  quarter- 
master's, and  medical  departments  of  the  army,  which  was  in  a  con- 
dition that  rendered  these  duties  of  the  most  onerous  description. 

When  the  committees  of  correspondence  were  formed,  he  was 
appointed  to  Westchester  county,  and  the  gallant  Montgomery  to 
Dutchess.  He  devised  a  feasible  and  judicious  plan  to  defray  the 
expenses  of  the  war,  when  the  plan  that  he  proposed  for  a  reconcilia- 
tion with  England  proved  abortive.  When  the  commander-in-chief 
approached,  on  his  way  to  join  the  army  at  the  north,  Governeur 
Morris  was  one  of  those  appointed  to  meet  him  at  Newark,  and 
there  commenced  the  mutual  esteem  and  entire  Confidence  between 
them  that  never  diminished.  His  speech  in  favor  of  independence, 
in  the  first  Congress,  was  as  remarkable  for  logical  force  as  that 
of  Patrick  Henry  for  rhetorical  fire.  He  was  soon  after  sent  on 
a  mission  to  the  Congress  assembled  at  Philadelphia,  api)ointed  a 
commissioner  to  organize  the  new  government,  and  sent  to  confer 
with  General  Schuyler,  at  Fort  Edward,  "on  the  means  to  be 
used  by  the  state  in  aid  of  his  plans  of  defence  or  resistance." 


GOVERNEUR     MORRIS.  417 

We  next  find  him  a  delegate  to  Massachusetts  in  a  convention 
to  arrange  "currency  and  prices;"  a  mission  which  was  pre- 
cluded by  a  more  peremptory  call  to  Washington's  head-quarters. 
He  was  one  of  the  five  delegates,  elected  on  the  dissolution  of 
the  New  York  convention  that  formed  the  constitution  of 
the  state,  to  represent  her  in  the  mean  time.  In  that  terrible 
crisis  when  the  army  was  encamped  at  Valley  Forge,  and  all 
was  confusion,  foreboding,  and  privation,  Governeur  Morris  was 
chosen  as  the  bearer  of  encouragement  and  counsel  to  the  army, 
and  proved  a  most  judicious  and  acceptable  coadjutor  with  his 
beloved  chief,  in  reducing  it  to  something  like  order  and  comfort. 
His  pen  was  then  employed  to  draw  up  instructions  to  General 
Gates,  and  an  account  of  the  existent  state  of  public  affairs  for 
the  use  of  Congress. 

His  views  on  the  appointment  of  foreigners  to  military  office, 
on  providing  for  the  army,  and  other  exigencies  of  the  times,  are 
impressively  unfolded  in  his  correspondence  with  Washington. 
He  drafted  an  able  and  timely  address  to  the  American  people  on 
the  prosperous  crisis  attending  the  French  alliance ;  and  wrote, 
for  Dr.  Franklin  to  lay  before  the  French  ministry,  "  Observa- 
tions on  the  Finances  of  America."  In  February,  1779,  we 
find  him  chairman  of  the  committee  "  to  consider  the  despatches 
from  the  American  Commissioners  abroad,  and  communications 
from  the  French  minister  in  the  United  States "  —  "in  its  char- 
acter and  consequences,"  it  has  been  said,  "perhaps  the  most 
important  during  the  war."  In  1780,  during  the  great  fiscal 
depression,  he  published,  in  a  Philadelphia  journal,  a  series  of 
methodical,  condensed,  and  intelligent  papers  on  the  subject  of 
continental  currency  and  finance,  and  was  soon  after  appointed 
assistant-financier  to  Robert  Morris.  With  General  Knox,  he 
was  delegated  by  Washington  to  consult  with  the  agents  of  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  on  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  He  corresponded 
with  the  French  minister  on  the  trade  with  the  West  Indies,  and 
induced  desirable  modifications  of  our  commercial  treaties. 

While  residing  at  the  French  capital,  and  mingling  with  more 
curiosity  than  sympathy  in  its  social  circles,  he  was  appointed  by 
Washington  a  Commissioner  to  England.  Although  his  ill-success 
in  effecting  any  immediate  arrangement  of  the  pending  difficul- 


418  THE     AMERICAN     STATESMAN. 

ties  has  been  ascribed  to  the  abrupt  manner  which  characterized 
his  interviews  with  Pitt  and  the  Duke  of  Leeds,  and  also  to  a 
breach  of  diplomatic  courtesy,  to  which  a  high  sense  of  honor 
impelled  him,  in  communicating  to  the  French  minister,  then  res- 
ident in  London,  the  terms  of  the  proposed  treaty ;  it  seems,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  be  generally  conceded  that  the  policy  of  the 
English  government,  at  this  epoch,  was  delay,  in  order  to  await 
the  issue  of  the  continental  troubles  before  making  definite  terms 
with  the  United  States.  On  his  return  to  Paris,  Governeur  Mor- 
ris received  intelligence  of  his  appointment  as  minister  to  France. 
He  held  the  office  at  a  terrible  political  crisis,  discharged  its 
varied  duties  with  eminent  fidelity,  and,  although  restrained,  by 
the  delicacy  of  his  position,  from  taking  an  active  part  in  the 
affairs  of  the  kingdom,  he  exercised  a  brave  humanity  in  sheltering 
refugees,  preserving  the  funds' of  the  royal  family,  and  transmit- 
ting them  to  the  exiles,  using  every  available  means  to  obtain  the 
liberation  of  Lafayette,  securing  the  lives  and  property  of  his 
own  countrymen,  and  maintaining  the  dignity  of  the  nation  he 
represented. 

The  interval  between  his  retirement  from  this  office  and  his 
return  home  was  passed  in  visiting  Switzerland,  Germany,  and 
other  parts  of  Europe.  During  this  tour  his  observant  mind  was 
constintly  engaged  —  not,  however,  upon  the  objects  that  usually 
attract  cultivated  travellers  from  America  ;  for  art  and  antiquity 
his  taste  was  not  so  evident  as  for  those  aspects  and  interests  of 
national  life  which  he  esteemed  of  more  practical  importance. 
He  collected  information  on  political  and  commercial  topics,  and 
in  regard  to  manufactures  and  agriculture.  Society,  however, 
was  his  chosen  field,  and  conversation  his  favorite  resource  — 
*'the  dumb  circle  round  a  card-table"  being  his  aversion.  In 
Vienna,  Berlin,  and  other  capitals,  he  seems  to  have  been 
regarded  from  two  entirely  opposite  points  of  view  —  the  bold- 
ness and  originality  of  his  thoughts,  and  the  manner  of  expressing 
them,  giving  offence  to  some,  and  delight  to  others.  His  return 
home,  after  a  wearisome  voyage,  was  cordially  welcomed.  He 
immediately  rebuilt  the  old  homestead,  and  adorned  his  ancestral 
domain ;  was  elected  to  Congress,  where  his  speeches  on  the 
Louisiana  question,  and  other  topics  of  the  day,  several  orations 


GOVERNEUR     MORRIS.  419 

delivered  in  New  York,  and  his  successful  advocacy  of  the  Erie 
Canal,  attest  the  continuance  of  his  public  spirit.  Occasional 
journeys,  an  extensive  correspondence,  the  care  of  his  estate, 
and  a  liberal  hospitality,  agreeably  diversified  the  remainder  of 
his  life. 

The  foresiojht  which  seems  so  natural  to  enlar^^ed  views  was  a 
prominent  trait  in  Governeur  Morris.  His  opinions  were  not  the 
sudden  conjectures  of  a  heated  fancy,  nor  the  daring  speculations 
of  an  undisciplined  intellect.  He  looked  calmly  on  a  question, 
espoused  a  cause  with  his  judgment  not  less  than  with  his  heart, 
and,  having  done  so,  knew  how  to  abide  the  issue  with  tranquil 
manliness.  There  was  nothing  fanatical  in  his  sentiments  ;  they 
were  generous,  bold,  and  ardent ;  but  they  were  also  well-con- 
sidered, reliable,  and  modified  by  reason  and  experience.  Accord- 
ingly, he  looked  beyond  the  limits  of  party,  and  disdained  the 
cant  of  faction  ;  on  broad,  solid,  and  elevated  ground  he  loved  to 
stand  and  survey  his  country  and  the  world.  To  his  mental 
vision,  therefore,  "coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before;" 
for  his  gaze  was  not  absorbed  in  the  details  of  adjacent  life,  but 
ranged  far  and  wide,  quickened  by  a  spirit  of  enlightened  curios- 
ity, and  genuine  patriotic  sympathies. 

Many  instances  might  be  cited  of  the  prescience  of  Governeur 
MoiTis.  His  consistent  faith  in  the  measures  of  Washington, 
and  the  intelligent  support  he  uniformly  yielded  him,  under  all 
circumstances,  was  the  instinctive  adherence  of  a  kindred  spirit. 
Before  the  Revolution  broke  out  he  saw  the  natural  unity  of  the 
American  States,  and  advocated  a  plan  for  "uniting  the  whole 
continent  in  one  grand  legislature."  At  the  very  outset  of  the 
French  Revolution,  he  anticipated  the  course  of  the  people,  and 
justly  defined  the  true  policy  of  the  court.  His  letter  to  Lafiiy- 
«tte  distinctly  presages  the  result  to  which  he  was  unconsciously 
advancing,  and  breathes  the  genuine  counsel  of  enlightened  affec- 
tion. One  of  the  first  to  perceive  the  necessity  of  active  inter- 
course between  the  seaboard  and  the  interior  of  America,  he 
broached  in  conversation  the  idea  of  the  Erie  Canal  at  a  time 
when  it  was  deemed  chimerical,  steadfastly  advocated  the  project, 
and  greatly  contributed  to  its  achievement.  The  broad  avenues 
which  now  intersect  the  metropolis  of  New  York,  and  constitute 


420  THE     AMEBICAN      STATESMAN. 

its  redeeming  feature,  were  first  successfully  advocated  bj  Gor- 
erneur  Morris. 

At  a  period  when  the  municipal  authorities  proposed  to  save 
the  expense  of  a  marble  facing  to  the  back  of  the  City  Hall,  on 
the  ground  that  it  would  never  be  seen  except  from  the  suburbs, 
unmoved  by  the  sneers  of  narrow-minded  incredulity,  he  urged 
that  the  city  should  be  laid  out  as  far  as  Haerlem.  The  present 
American  coinage  is  based  upon  his  plan,  although  modified  from 
the  original  scheme ;  and  he  originated  the  first  bank  in  the 
country,  upon  principles  the  utility  of  which  experience  has  amply 
proved.  Instead  of  dating  American  liberty  from  the  Stamp  Act, 
he  traced  it  to  the  prosecution  of  Peter  Zenger,  a  printer  in  the 
colony  of  New  York,  for  an  alleged  libel ;  because  that  event 
revealed  the  philosophy  of  freedom,  both  of  thought  and  speech, 
as  an  inborn  human  right,  so  nobly  set  forth  in  Milton's  ti;eatise 
on  "  Unlicensed  Printing."  He  derived  the  superiority  of  Amer- 
ican nautical  architecture  from  the  Indian  canoe  —  "  its  slender 
and  elegant  form,  its  rapid  movement,  its  capacity  to  bear  burdens 
and  resist  the  rage  of  the  billows  and  torrents."  His  criticism  on 
his  own  portrait  was  sagacious  :  "  The  head  is  good,"  he  remarked, 
"  but  the  hands  and  fiice  tell  a  different  story y  It  was  this 
habitual  reversion  to  first  principles,  this  testing  of  every  question 
by  the  dictates  of  his  own  understanding,  rather  than  by  the 
wat(jh words  of  prejudice,  that  marked  Governeur  Morris  as  a 
superior  man  even  in  an  age  of  great  and  active  intelligence.  He 
was  a  philosopher  rather  than  a  politician. 

Averse  to  the  separation  of  the  colonies,  except  on  the  principle 
of  self-preservation,  he  was  among  the  most  able  champions  of 
conciliatory  measures;  but,  when  they  proved  ineffectual,  he 
engaged  with  all  his  mind  and  will  in  the  struggle  for  independ- 
ence —  at  an  almost  entire  sacrifice  of  private  interest  and  feeling, 
being  unsustained  by  his  family  and  some  of  his  earliest  friends. 
Yet  he  was  no  undiscriminating  republican.  In  the  habits,  char- 
acter, and  prospects,  of  his  own  countrymen,  he  recognized  a 
natural  aptitude  for  the  form  of  government  under  which  they 
have  so  greatly  advanced  and  prospered ;  but  in  France  the  case 
presented  itself  to  his  mind  in  quite  a  different  light ;  there  he 
told  Lafayette,  with  prophetic  wisdom,  that  he  was  ''  opposed  to 


GOVERN  EUR      MORRIS.  421 

democracy  from  regard  to  liberty."  Upon  the  same  conviction, 
that  the  welfare  of  France  was  most  secure  under  legitimate 
monarchical  rule,  were  founded  the  sentiments  of  his  oration  on 
the  return  of  the  Bourbons,  jet  memorable  in  New  York  for  the 
offence  it  gave  to  many  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  the  bold  elo- 
quence it  developed  in  the  orator.  He  was  equally  misjudged 
for  maintaining  the  expediency  of  consolidating  the  public  debts 
after  the  war  —  a  measure  regarded  with  a  jealous  eye  by  the 
ardent  upholders  of  state  rights,  but  one  espoused  by  Governeur 
Morris,  for  the  sake  of  the  more  liberal  and  wise  policy  of  com- 
bining their  interests  and  fostering  the  new-born  and  unconfirmed 
national  sentiment.  Thus,  in  all  contingencies,  he  anticipated 
the  future  greatness  of  the  country  to  whose  welfare  the  flower 
of  his  youth  was  devoted.  He  saw  the  majestic  tree  in  the  swell- 
ing germ. 

It  was  the  habit  of  his  mind  to  elicit  the  universal  from  the 
special,  and  to  seize  on  the  central  idea  and  essential  principles, 
instead  of  occupying  himself  with  the  incidental  and  temporary. 
Thus,  when  the  charges  against  Silas  Deane  were  discussed  in 
Congress,  upon  the  authority  of  Thomas  Paine,  Governeur  Morris 
argued  for  the  hitter's  removal  from  his  office,  on  the  ground  that 
the  honor  due  to  the  nation's  ally  was  involved,  while  the  incum- 
bent had  no  socral  or  personal  claims,  but  was  an  adventurer. 
This  was  a  statement  of  the  case  as  it  would  appear  to  a  Euro- 
pean spectator,  at  a  time  when  few  in  our  country's  councils  had 
the  perspicacity  to  take  such  a  view.  Personal  ill-will,  growing 
out  of  a  newspaper  controversy,  has,  indeed,  been  charged  upon 
the  legislator  in  this  instance ;  but  this  does  not  correspond  with 
the  efforts  he  subsequently  made  in  France  for  Paine's  liberation, 
when  the  latter  was  far  more  degraded,  and  in  peril  of  his  life. 

Although,  as  we  have  seen,  the  views  of  Governeur  Morris 
were  comprehensive,  they  were  also  eminently  practical.  He 
was  one  of  those  efficient  philosophers  who  understand  the  actual 
worth  of  abstract  truth,  and  know  intuitively  how  far  it  can  be 
applied  to  human  affairs  with  utility  and  satisfaction.  In  our 
day  there  has  been  exhibited  a  mischievous  fanaticism  which 
advocates  the  realization  of  what  is  abstractly  right  and  true, 
without  any  regard  to  existent  circumstances.  Similar  principles, 
36 


422  THE     AMERICAN     STATESMAN. 

carried  out  by  violence,  occasioned  the  most  dreadful  results  of 
the  French  Revolution ;  and  there  are  always  disciples  enough  of 
any  doctrine,  the  espousal  of  which  secures  notoriety,  however 
obviously  detrimental  it  may  be  to  the  welfare  of  humanity,  and 
the  permanent  interests  of  liberty  or  truth.  The  practical  wisdom 
of  Governeur  Morris  was  early  manifested  in  his  financial  essays, 
and  appears  conspicuously  in  his  revolutionary  writings  and 
speeches ;  it  induced  him  to  warn  Lafayette  of  Mirabeau,  to  sug- 
gest the  basis  of  a  popular  constitution  to  Louis,  and  to  cooperate 
with  Clinton  in  his  grand  plans  of  internal  improvement,  upon 
which  rest  the  prosperity  of  their  native  state.  Time  has  proved 
the  feasibility  of  his  large  practical  conceptions,  political  and 
commercial.  His  genius  for  affairs  has  seldom  been  surpassed, 
and  its  evidences  are  yet  apparent,  though  comparatively  unac- 
knowledged. 

With  this  breadth  of  purpose  and  fertility  of  thought,  there, 
however,  blended  a  peremptory  manner,  which  sometimes  led 
Governeur  Morris  to  check  garrulity  with  a  lofty  impatience,  and 
also  imparted  a  somewhat  dictatorial  tone  to  his  intercourse.  With 
his  frankness,  too,  there  was  united  a  certaui  love  of  discipline 
and  courtly  dignity,  that  were  not  always  pleasing  to  the  ultra 
democratic  among  his  countrymen.  With  the  local  prejudice  and 
social  conformity  of  New  England  he  had  no  sympathy,  but 
seems  to  have  inherited  the  dislike  of  Yankee  customs  and  modes 
of  feeling,  which  induced  his  father  to  prohibit  his  children,  by 
will,  a  New  England  education.  The  elements  of  humanity  were 
liberally  dispensed  to  him.  He  did  not  live  exclusively  in  his 
intellect  and  public  spirit ;  but  was  a  genuine  lover  of  ease  and 
pleasure,  had  a  natural  taste  for  elegance  and  luxury,  and  knew 
how  to  enjoy  as  well  as  how  to  work.  Throughout  the  most 
active  part  of  his  life,  however,  he  never  allowed  the  one  function 
to  infringe  upon  the  other. 

It  has  been  justly  said  of  him  that  *'  he  never  shi-unk  from 
any  task,  and  never  commenced  one  which  he  left  unfinished." 
Indeed,  his  faculty  consisted  mainly  in  a  rare  power  of  concentra- 
tion. He  could  converge  the  light  of  his  mind  and  the  force  of 
his  emotions,  at  will ;  and,  therefore,  whether  business  or  pleasure 
enlisted  him,  the  result  was  never  equivocal.     His  moral  power 


GOVERN  EUR    MORRIS.  423 

was  integrity ;  he  was  direct,  open,  sincere,  a  thorough,  uncom- 
promising, and  zealous  devotee  of  truth  in  philosophy,  social 
relations,  and  life.  Hence  his  courage,  self-respect,  and  sim- 
plicity, rendering  him  altogether  a  fine  specimen  of  a  republican 
gentleman.  His  commanding  figure,  expressive  features,  and 
strong,  emphatic  articulation,  combined  as  they  were  with 
superior  intellectual  gifts,  justify  Madame  de  Staiil's  remark  to 
him  :  ^^ Monsieur^  voits  avez  Vair  ires  hnposant.''^ 

He  was  equally  at  home  when  absorbed  in  abstruse  inquiries 
and  conviviality,  amusement  and  study,  utility  and  agreeable- 
ness ;  and  possessed  that  completeness  of  nature  which  is  essen- 
tial to  manhood.  His  generosity  was  evinced  in  numerous  and 
unostentatious  services  to  the  unfortunate ;  and  his  letter  to  a 
Tory  friend,  who  desired  to  return  to  America,  breathes  the 
true  spirit  of  magnanimity.  He  drafted  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States.  Never  being  solicitous  for  the  credit  due 
to  his  patriotic  labors,  many  services  are  claimed  in  his  behalf, 
by  his  friends,  which  nominally  belong  to  those  with  whom 
he  was  associated  in  public  life.  He  often  expressed  the  convic- 
tion that  his  own  mind  was  more  indebted  for  lucid  and  reliable 
principles  of  judgment  and  action  to  Robert  H.  Morris  than  to 
any  other  friend.  Having  married  a  niece  of  John  Randolph, 
the  latter  was  often  his  guest,  and  the  keen  encounters  which 
would  naturally  occur  between  two  such  emphatic  yet  opposite 
characters  may  readily  be  imagined. 

The  manner  in  which  his  marriage  occurred  is  an  instance  of 
that  eccentricity  to  which  we  have  alluded  as  indicating  the  orig- 
inality and  independence  which  marked  his  private  not  less  than 
his  public  life.  He  had  invited  a  large  number  of  his  relatives 
to  a  Christmas  dinner,  and,  having  greeted  them  all  with  his 
usual  hospitality,  left  the  room,  and  soon  returned  with  his 
intended  bride,  and  a  clergyman  who  instantly  performed  the 
man'inge  ceremony,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  the  guests,  and  the 
disappointment  of  those  among  them  who  expected  to  inherit  the 
estate. 

His  behavior  when  the  accident  occurred  by  which  he  lost  his 
leo"  was  equally  characteristic.  While  in  attendance  upon  Con- 
gress, in  Philadelphia,  his  horses  haying  taken  fright  in  conse- 


424  THE     STATESMAN. 

quence  of  some  disturbance  in  the  street,  he  was  thiown  from  his 
phaeton,  and  so  severely  injured  in  the  knee-joint,  that  amputa- 
tion of  the  lower  limb  was  deemed  necessary.  He  conversed  not 
only  with  calmness  but  with  humor  over  his  misfortune  ;  and  told 
the  experienced  surgeons  that  they  had  already  sufficient  reputa- 
tion, and  he  preferred  giving  the  operation  to  a  young  medical 
friend,  that  he  might  have  the  credit  of  it  to  advance  his  prac- 
tice. When  abroad  he  tried  several  very  artistic  substitutes  for 
his  lost  member ;  but,  naturally  impatient  of  deception,  even  in 
costume,  he  continued  to  use  a  stump  attached  to  the  fractured 
leg,  and  managed  to  accommodate  his  locomotion  to  this  incon- 
venience without  in  the  least  impairing  the  dignity  of  his  move- 
ments. Indeed,  it  served  him  an  excellent  purpose  on  one  occa- 
sion, for  the  cry  of  "  Aristocrat !  "  being  raised  against  him  in 
the  streets  of  Paris,  for  appearing  in  his  carriage,  when  no  such 
vehicles  were  allowed  by  the  mob,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  blood- 
thirsty crowd,  who  threatened  his  life ;  but  he  coolly  thrust  his 
wooden  leg  out  of  the  window,  and  cried  out,  "  An  aristocrat? 
Yes ;  who  lost  his  limb  in  the  cause  of  American  liberty  ! "  The 
reaction  was  instantaneous  ;  he  was  not  only  allowed  to  proceed, 
but  vehemently  cheered  on  his  way. 

He  had  an  old-fashioned  but  impressive  manner  of  expressing 
himself,  which,  though  at  this  day  it  might  be  considered  some- 
what ostentatious,  accorded  with  the  large  canes  and  buttons,  the 
broad-skirted  coats  and  stately  air,  in  vogue  when  Copley's  por- 
traits truly  represented  the  style  of  character  and  taste  in  dress 
that  prevailed.  A  genuine  Knickerbocker,  in  whose  now  ripe 
memory  Governeur  Morris  is  the  ideal  of  an  American  civilian, 
imitates  with  great  effect  the  tone,  at  once  significant  and  digni- 
fied, with  which  he  asked  a  pretentious  literary  aspirant,  who 
apologized  for  being  late  at  dinner  by  stating  tli«t  he  had  been 
engaged  in  forming  a  philosophical  society,  "  Pray,  where  are 
your  philosophers?"  and  his  reply  to  a  friend  who  asked  his  son, 
then  a  boy  of  four  years  old,  if  he  had  yet  read  Robinson  Crusoe 
and  Jack  the  Giant  Killer,  "  Tell  the  gentleman,  no ;  but  that 
you  are  acquainted  with  the  lives  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  and 
Charles  of  Sweden, —  the  Twelfth." 

There  was  a  vein  of  what  has  been  called  Johnsonese  in  the 


GOVERNEUR    MORRIS.  425 

rhetoric  of  Governeur  Morris,  but  it  was  underlaid  by  so  much 
strong  natural  sense,  and.  in  his  deliberate  efforts,  vivified  by  such 
true  enthusiasm,  that  it  seemed  quite  appropriate  to  the  man. 
He  had  all  the  requisites  to  sustain  daring  oratory.  With  a  taste 
formed  chiefly  upon  the  French  pulpit  eloquence  in  its  palmy 
days,  his  indulgence  in  personification,  as  when  he  invoked  tlic 
shade  of  Penn  in  a  speech  in  Philadelphia,  and  especially  in 
the  apostrophes  of  his  funeral  orations,  in  a  man  of  less  natural 
dignity  and  impressiveness  would  have  been  in  imminent  danger 
of  gliding  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous ;  but  there  was  a 
singular  unity  of  effect  in  the  elocution  of  Governeur  Morris. 
Intelligent  crowds  hung  in  silent  admiration  upon  his  eloquence ; 
and  servants  stopped  open-mouthed,  dish  in  hand,  to  catch  his 
table-talk.  His  social  privileges  were  not  less  rich  than  various ; 
and  he  enjoyed  the  signal  advantages  of  that  companionship  with 
superior  natures  wliich  is  quickened  and  sustained  by  mutual 
duties  and  genuine  intellectual  sympathy.  It  was  his  rare  for- 
tune to  be  intimate  with  the  leading  spirits  of  two  nations,  at 
epochs  of  social  and  political  convulsions  which  brought  to  the 
surface  and  into  action  the  gifts  and  graces,  as  well  as  the  pas- 
sions, of  humanity.  At  home  the  esteemed  associate  of  Schuyler, 
Greene,  and  the  other  brave  chiefs  of  the  army ;  of  Hamiltonj 
Clinton,  and  all  the  eminent  civic  leaders  of  his  time  ;  the  cor- 
respondent of  public  characters,  embracing  every  species  of  dis- 
tinction, from  that  of  Paul  Jones  to  that  of  Thomas  Jefferson  ; 
and  abroad,  on  terms  of  the  frankest  intercourse  with  Necker  and 
his  gifted  daughter,  Marmontel  and  the  family  of  Orleans, —  he 
had  the  best  opportunity  to  estimate  the  comparative  benefits  of 
fortune,  rank,  genius,  society,  form  of  government,  modes  of  life, 
and  principles  of  nature. 

His  relation  to  Washington  was  of  a  kind  that  affords  the 
best  evidence  of  liis  worth.  Their  correspondence  evidences  the 
highest  degree  of  mutual  respect  and  confidence  ;  their  views  on 
public  affairs  are  developed  with  an  intelligent  frankness  and 
unanimity  of  sentiment  pleasing  to  contemplate ;  while  the 
geniality  of  friendship  incidentally  appears  in  the  "pigs  and 
poultry"  sent  from  Morrissiana  to  Mount  Vernon  ;  the  commis- 
sion Washington  gave  his  former  counsellor  to  purchase  him  a 
36* 


426  THE     STATESMAN. 

watch  ;  and  the  candid  letter  of  advice  he  wrote  him  on  his 
appointment  as  minister  to  France.  There  was  something  kin- 
dred in  the  tone  of  both,  however  dissimilar  in  their  endowments 
and  career  ;  and  in  form  so  much  were  thej  alike  tliat  Governeur 
Morris,  when  in  Paris,  stood  for  the  figure  of  Iloudon's  statue  of 
Washington.  Notwithstanding  the  florid  style  of  portions  of  the 
eulogy  delivered  on  his  beloved,  chief,  at  the  public  funeral  in 
New  York,  Governeur  Morris  drew  his  character  with  great  dis- 
crimination. 

It  is  said  that  at  a  convivial  party  to  which  Washington  was 
invited,  his  remarkable  traits  were  the  subject  of  earnest  discus- 
sion among  the  company  ;  and  it  was  insisted  that  no  one,  how- 
ever intimate,  would  dare  to  take  a  liberty  with  him.  In  a  fool- 
ish moment  of  elation  Governeur  Morris  accepted  a  bet  that  he 
would  venture  upon  the  experiment.  Accordingly,  just  before 
dinner  was  announceil,  as  the  guests  stood  in  a  group  by  the  fire, 
he  induced  a  somewhat  lively  chat,  and  in  the  midst  of  it,  appar- 
ently from  a  casual  impulse,  clapped  Washington  familiarly  on 
the  shoulder.  The  latter  turned  and  gave  him  a  look  of  such 
mild  and  dignified  yet  grieved  surprise,  that  even  the  self- 
possession  of  his  friend  deserted  him.  He  shrunk  from  that  gaze 
of  astonishment  at  his  forgetfulness  of  respect ;  and  the  mirth  of 
the  company  was  instantly  awed  into  silence.  It  is  curious,  with 
this  scene  fresh  in  mind,  to  revert  to  a  passage  in  the  eulogy  to 
which  we  have  referred :  "  You  all  have  felt  the  reverence  he 
inspired ;  it  was  such  that  to  command  seemed  in  him  but  the 
exercise  of  an  ordinary  function,  while  others  felt  that  a  duty  to 
obey  —  anterior  to  the  injunctions  of  civil  ordinance  or  the  com- 
pulsions of  a  military  code  —  was  imposed  by  the  high  behests 
of  nature." 

The  quality  wjiich  all  history  shows  to  be  the  basis  of  chai-ac- 
ter  is  self-reliance.  United  with  generosity  and  remarkable 
intelligence,  this  trait  gives  directness,  force,  and  authority,  to 
the  manner,  word,  and  thought.  We  trace  to  this  combination 
much  of  the  energy  of  Governeur  Morris,  and  not  a  little  of  his 
social  influence.  Although,  at  times,  his  confidence  in  his  own 
opinion  and  moods  degenerated  into  complacency,  and  even  offen- 
sive dogmatism,  these  were  the  extreme  phases  of  an  invaluable 


GOVERNEUR    MORRIS.  42T 

quality.  The  very  same  trust  in  his  own  resources  and  the 
deliberate  convictions  of  his  understanding,  in  the  hour  of  earnest 
and  momentous  discussion,  gave  a  profound  emphasis  to  his  dis- 
course, that  won  his  audience ;  and,  in  the  hour  of  baffled  endeavor 
and  mortified  hope,  enabled  him  to  impart  vital  encouragement 
to  the  desponding  adherents  of  a  glorious  cause.  In  the  society 
of  rank  and  genius,  it  also  endowed  him,  as  the  representative  of 
liberal  principles,  with  a  dignity  that  met  unawed  the  gaze  of  an 
opponent,  and  enabled  him  to  estimate  at  their  just  value  the 
grandeur  and  blandishments  that  subdue  or  captivate  those  not 
thus  fortified. 

The  men  who  thus  exert  a  great  and  benign  personal  influence 
usually  combine  will,  intellect,  and  disinterestedness,  in  their 
characters ;  the  two  former  in  various  proportions,  but  the  latter 
always  in  an  eminent  degree.  It  is  to  such  a  union  of  high 
qualities  that  we  ascribe  the  accurate  and  extensive  insight  for 
which  such  men  are  remarkable.  Selfish  instincts  are  proverbi- 
ally short-sighted,  and  the  first  requisite  for  comprehensive  views 
is  a  position  elevated  above  the  level  of  private  interest ;  it  is 
thus  that  the  love  of  knowledge  in  the  man  of  science,  and  the 
enthusiasm  for  beauty  in  the  poet  and  artist,  lift  them  into  a 
region  where  what  is  petty,  commonplace,  and  material,  vanish  in 
a  limitless  perspective.  The  same  result  is  born  of  wide  and 
intelligent  sympathies,  enlisting  the  feelings  in  enlarged  social 
enterprises,  the  will  in  noble  social  reforms,  and  the  mind  in  con- 
templations that  embrace  the  welfare  of  nations  and  the  good  of 
humanity.  In  a  field  of  action  so  often  perverted  to  mere 
aggrandizement  as  that  of  politics,  the  presence  of  a  thoroughly 
honest,  wise,  and  ardent  humanitarian,  like  Governeur  Morris,  is 
a  spectacle  that  exalts  our  common  nature.  It  aifects  us  like  an 
acted  poem,  and  realizes  m  life  the  moral  romance  of  history. 


THE   ITALIAN   MARTYR 

SILVIO  PELLICO. 


Early  on  a  January  morning  of  the  year  1854,  a  small  fune- 
ral cortege  passed  from  beneath  one  of  the  arcades  that  line  so 
many  of  the  streets  of  Turin.  At  that  hour  they  were  almost 
deserted ;  and  the  silence  made  doubly  impressive  the  aspect  of 
the  few  priests  who  walked  beside  the  bier,  and  the  little  group 
of  mourners  that  followed  it  to  the  tomb.  On  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  range  that  girdles  the  Sardinian  capital,  masses  of  snow 
rested,  here  and  there  touched  with  a  glittering  hue  by  the  first 
pale  beams  of  a  winter  sun ;  prominent,  on  one  lofty  slope,  rose 
the  church  of  La  Superga,  where  the  monarchs  of  the  kingdom 
lie  buried;  yonder  is  the  street  Alfieri,  reminding  the  stranger 
that  here  the  tragic  poet  of  Italy  consumed  a  miseducated  youth, 
whose  trials  he  has  bitterly  recorded  in  the  memoir  attached  to 
his  di'amas ;  near  by  is  the  palace  within  whose  walls  are  so 
many  gems  of  art ;  and  not  flir  distant  the  new  church  erected  by 
the  Waldenses,  so  long  banished  to  the  valleys  of  Piedmont,  but 
now  allowed  '-freedom  to  worship  God"  in  the  capital  of  a 
reformed  and  progressive  state.  From  the  associations  this  scene 
awakens,  if  one  turn  to  the  modest  obsequies  first  noted,  they  also 
yield  an  historical  lesson.  The  body  thus  unostentatiously  car- 
ried to  the  sepulchre  is  that  of  one  known  far  beyond  these  moun- 
tains, and  whose  name  is  identified  with  patriotism,  with  genius, 
and  with  suffering  —  three  charms  to  win  and  to  hold  the  love  of 


SILVIO    PELLICO.  429 

mankind.  It  is  the  funeral  of  Silvio  Pellico.  "Fra  due  o  tre 
ore,"  be  said,  a  little  TNliile  before  bis  deatb,  "saro  in  paradiso. 
Se  bo  peccato,  bo  espiato.  Vedete,  —  quando  bo  scritto  Le  Mie 
Prigioni,  bo  avuto  la  vanita  de  credermi  un  grand  uomo,  —  ma 
poi  bo  veduto  cbe  non  era  vero,  e  mi  sono  pentito  della  mio  van- 
ita." *  Tbus  meekly,  yet  confident  in  bis  faitb,  be  expired;  and 
tbus,  -without  public  honors,  be  was  buried.  But  his  life  was  too 
remarkable  to  be  concluded  without  a  glance  at  its  leading  facts ; 
and  he  wrote  and  suffered  in  a  spirit  and  to  an  end  which  chal- 
lenge, at  least,  a  gi-ateful  reminiscence. 

Born  in  Piedmont,  in  1788,  Silvio  Pellico  went,  in  early 
youth,  to  Lyons,  and  returned  to  Milan  to  enter  upon  the  career 
of  a  man  of  letters  and  a  teacher  of  youth.  In  the  former  voca- 
tion be  became  favorably  known  as  the  author  of  several  trage- 
dies. The  example  of  Alfieri  had  given  a  new  impulse  to  this 
form  of  literature,  and  it  became  the  favorite  vehicle  of  patriotic 
feeling.  There  is  often  a  winning  grace  of  diction,  and  a  nobility 
as  well  as  refinement  of  sentiment,  in  Pellico's  tragedies,  but  they 
lack  the  concise  vigor  and  suggestive  intensity  of  bis  great  proto- 
type. He  is  evidently  subdued  by,  instead  of  rising  above,  the 
trammels  of  dramatic  unity  ;  we  but  occasionally  recognize  a  per- 
fectly free  and  glowing  utterance ;  the  mould  seems  too  rigid  and 
precise  for  the  thought,  and,  despite  his  casual  success,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  this  was  not  the  legitimate  sphere  for  Pellico's  genius. 
Yet  there  is  much  skill,  taste,  and  emotion,  as  well  as  scholarship, 
in  bis  plays.  We  have  been  brought  into  so  much  nearer  contact 
with  bis  mind,  through  its  less  studied  and  artificial  expression, 
that  these  writings  do  not  appear  to  do  full  justice  or  give  entire 
scope  to  bis  powers.  The  subjects  are  mainly  historical ;  charac- 
terization is  secondary  to  plot  and  language  ;  of  the  latter,  Pel- 
lico had  a  poetical  mastery.  The  scene  of  Ester  d  Engaddi 
is  laid  in  the  second  century,  about  fifty  years  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem ;  it  is  elaborated  from  Hebrew  annals  and  tra- 
dition.    I(jinia  d^Asti,  which  enjoyed,  at  one  time,  a  considerable 

♦  "  In  two  or  three  hours  I  shall  be  in  paradise.  If  I  have  sinned,  I  have  also 
atoned.  "When  I  wrote  *  My  Prisons,'  I  had  the  vanity  to  believe  myself  a  great 
man  ;  but  then  I  saw  it  was  not  true,  and  repented  of  my  conceit." 


430  THE    ITALIAN    MARTYR. 

degree  of  popularity,  illustrates  a  local  story  of  the  thirteenth 
century.  Evfemio  di  Messina  is  founded  on  the  invasion  of 
Sicily  by  the  Saracens  in  825.  In  each  drama  the  story  is  used 
as  the  medium  to  exhibit  some  great  truth  or  natural  sentiment, 
and  in  this  respect  he  resembles  Joanna  Baillie.  Thus,  Erodiade 
indicates  the  moral  beauty  of  a  fearless  annunciation  of  truth ; 
LeonierOj  the  misfortunes  attendant  on  civil  (Jiscord,  as  shown  in 
the  history  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  social  necessity  of  human 
fellowship ;  in  Gismonda  is  portrayed  a  woman  of  magnanimous 
soul  battling  with  strong  passions.  Tomaso  Moro  is  the  most 
interesting  of  Pellico's  tragedies,  to  the  English  reader.  It  traces, 
with  eifect,  and  a  certain  sympathetic  insight,  the  career  and  mar- 
tyrdom of  Sir  Thomas  More ;  the  last  scenes,  with  the  exception 
of  an  unfortunately  tame  line,  are  effective,  and,  throughout,  the 
authentic  and  familiar  biographies  are  followed.  But  the  most 
popular  of  Pellico's  tragedies,  and  undoubtedly  the  best,  is  Fran- 
cesca  da  Rim'niL  Upon  this  theme  he  worked  under  signal 
advantages.  It  was  already  endeared  and  glorified  to  the  hearts 
and  the  imaginations  of  his  countrymen,  by  the  memorable  epi- 
sode of  the  Inferno  —  one  of  the  few  instances  where  Dante 
combines  his  wonderful  intensity  of  expression  with  a  profound 
tenderness  of  sentiment,  and  thus  seizes,  at  once,  upon  the  very 
soul  of  the  reader.  The  subject  also  gave  scope  to  love  and  patri- 
otism—  feelings  then  dominant  and  glowing  in  the  author's 
breast.  With  but  four  characters,  he  gives  a  dramatic  version  of 
the  story  that  accords  with  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  so  impressively 
hinted  in  the  Dlvlna  Covimedia.  The  simplicity  of  the  plot  and 
the  directness  of  the  interlocutors  make  the  mere  outline  of  this 
drama  superior  to  any  of  its  predecessors ;  but  the  earnest  and 
beautiful  language,  and  the  depth  of  sentiment  that  warms  and 
colors  the  whole,  give  it  an  harmonious  and  deep  interest.  It  is, 
in  fact,  a  graceful  elaboration  of  the  Dantesque  episode  which 
constitutes  its  appropriate  introduction.  One  passage  from  the 
lips  of  Paolo  always  thrills  an  Italian  audience : 

•'  Ho  sparse 
Di  Bizanzio  pel  trono  il  sangue  mio, 
Deballando  citta  ch'  io  non  odiava, 
E  fama  ebbi  di  grande  e  d'onor  colmo 


SILVIO    PELLICO.  431 

Fui  dal  clemente  imperador  :  dispctto 

In  me  faccan  gli  universali  applausi 

Per  clii  di  stragi  si  macchio  il  mio  brando  ? 

Per  lo  straniero.     E  non  ho  patria  furse 

Cui  sacro  sia  de  cittadini  il  sangue  ? 

Per  te,  per  te,  che  cittadini  hai  prodi, 

Italia  mia,  combattero,  se  oltraggio 

Ti  movera  la  invidia.     E  il  piu  gentile 

Ten-en  non  sei  di  quanti  scalda  il  sole  ? 

D'  ogni  beir  arte  non  sei  madre,  o  Italia  ? 

Polve  d'  eroi  non  e  la  polve  tua  ? 

Agli  avi  niiei  tu  valor  desti  e  scggio. 

E  tutto  quanto  ho  di  piu  caro  alberghi !  '*  *  * 

Notwithstanding  the  popularity  of  this  work,  Pellico,  in  the 
prefiice  to  his  collected  Trayedie  e  Cantiche  (the  latter  best 
introduced  by  him  into  Italian  literature),  speaks  of  them  with  a 
self-distrust  which  evinces  his  consciousness  of  more  efficient  lit- 
erary powers.  Many  of  them  were  written,  he  says,  during  sea- 
sons of  intense  anxiety,  and  when  the  natural  vivacity  and  freedom 
of  his  mind  were  baffled  by  painful  circumstances.  His  little  trea- 
tise, Dei  Doveri  deyll  Uorniui^  is  a  lucid  address  to  youth  on 
morality,  in  which  good  precepts  are  clearly  enforced,  and  the  obli- 
gations of  religion  and  virtue  defined.  The  author's  name  and 
style  gave  it  sanction  in  Italy,  where  works  of  the  kind  are  rare. 

The  interest  of  his  dramatic  writings  was  soon  eclipsed  by  the 
tragedy  of  his  own  life.  Let  any  one  compare  the  formal  and 
prescriptive  style  of  utterance  in  one  of  these  scholarly  dramas 
with  the  angelic  simplicity  and  soul-bred  pathos  of  Le  Mie 
Prifflonl,  and  he  will  realize  anew,  and  most  vividly,  the  differ- 
ence between  the  genuine  and  the  conventional  in  literature.  To 
write  from  inventive  skill  and  from  consciousness,  to  paint  imag- 
inary and  real  woes,  to  draw  inspiration  from  the  dry  annals  of 
the  past  and  from  the  living,  conscious,  actual,  present,  —  how 
diverse  the  process  and  the  result !  The  genius  of  Pellico,  the 
very  elements  of  his  nature,  appear  in  the  record  of  his  imprison- 
ment ;  there  he  speaks  without  art,  and  from  the  depths  of  moral 
experience ;  the  utterance  is  childlike,  earnest,  direct,  and  there- 
fore inexpressibly  real  and  affecting.     His  articles  in  the  Condi- 

*  Francesca  da  Rimini^  Act  i.,Sc.  v. 


432  THE    ITALIAN    MARTYR. 

iatorej'  a  Liberal  journal  established  at  Milan,  occasioned  his 
arrest.  The  origin  of  this  periodical  is  due  to  Pellico,  who  acted 
as  secretary  of  the  associated  writers,  comprising  some  of  the  best 
minds  of  Italy  in  each  department :  in  literature,  Manzoni,  Ber- 
chet,  who  has  been  styled  the  Italian  Tyrteus,  Camillo  Uzoni,  a 
profound  critic,  Pietro  Borsieri,  Ludovico  de  Marchesi  de  Breme, 
Giovanni  Scalvini,  Sismondi,  and  Pellegrino  Rossi  —  although 
the  two  last  resided  at  Geneva ;  for  political  science,  Gioja,  Ro- 
magnosi,  Count  Giovanni  Arrivabene  e  Dal  Pozzo,  the  Marquis 
Hermes  Visconti;  for  the  exact  sciences,  Carlini,  Mosetti,  and 
Plana.  Pellico  narrates  the  event  of  his  arrest  with  brief  sim- 
plicity:  ^' Fii  arrestato  alle  ore  S  pomes  I  dknie  del  giorno  13 
Octobre,  1820."  But  another  describes  the  climax  of  this  infa- 
mous act  more  indignantly :  "A  young  man,  pale  but  calm,  sur- 
rounded by  sbirrl,  descended  the  Giants  Staircase  in  Venice, 
and,  crossing  the  piazza  of  San  Marco,  mounted  the  scaffold. 
That  young  man,  attenuated,  manacled,  beside  malefiictors,  was 
the  author  of  '  Francesca ; '  it  was  thou,  child  of  Italian  genius, 
dragged  to  the  block  between  files  of  foreign  soldiers  and  of 
police  guards  —  thou,  Silvio,  a  lamb  of  expiation !  "  Thence- 
forth, until  the  day  of  his  release,  a  period  of  several  years,  his 
story  is  told  by  himself,  in  a  prose-poem,  which  tlie  world  knows 
by  heart. 

Few  political  combinations  in  history  are  more  justifiable  than 
that  identity  with  which  caused  his  imprisonment.  The  leaders 
were  not  rash  experimentalists,  or  ambitious  malecontents,  but 
men  who  deliberately  sought  to  check  a  tide  of  reaction  which 
threatened  the  best  interests  of  humanity.  The  good  they  craved 
had  been  in  a  measure  realized,  and  then  wrested  from  their 
grasp;  a  dawn  had  broken  upon  their  benighted  country,  and 
quickened  its  latent  civic  life  and  moral  resources,  only  to  be 
succeeded  by  the  eclipse  which  an  ignorant  despotism  initiated. 
It  was  like  withdrawing  the  draught  from  lips  parched  with  thirst 
just  as  they  were  moistened,  —  excluding  the  air  of  heaven  from 
one  accustomed  to  range  the  mountains  and  the  sea, — or  quench- 
ing the  household  fire  at  the  instant  its  genial  warmth  penetrated 
the  chilled  frame  of  the  northern  wanderer.  We  are  too  apt  to 
imagine   the  revolutionists  of  the  early  part  of  this  century  as 


SILVIO    PELLICO.  433 

restless  fiinatics,  seeking  a  Utopian  boon,  and  to  confound  the 
movements  of  the  southern  nations,  after  the  fall  of  Napoleon, 
with  the  ultra  radicals  of  the  first  French  convulsion.  It  is  not 
enough  remembered  that  the  Italian  Liberals  of  1820  had  expe- 
rienced the  beneficent  effects  of  more  free  institutions  and  a  com- 
prehensive policy,  under  the  arbitrary  but  comparatively  enlight- 
ened sway  of  Europe's  modern  conqueror.  When  he  crossed  the 
Alps,  he  carried  new  principles  into  the  heart  of  Italy ;  a  thou- 
sand time-hallowed  abuses  vanished  before  the  code  he  instituded ; 
feudalism  gave  way,  for  the  time,  to  progress ;  entails,  titles,  sacer- 
dotal tyranny,  monopolies,  absurd  laws,  and  many  other  social 
evils,  disappeared,  or  were  essentially  mitigated;  petty  states 
were  merged  into  one  confederacy ;  the  palsied  arm  of  industry 
was  active  in  effecting  local  improvements  of  vast  public  utility ; 
capitalists  found  profitable  investments;  an  avenue  was  opened 
for  men  of  action,  and  men  of  thought  uttered  and  published  the 
ideas  they  had  long  cherished  in  secret ;  military  enthusiasm  was 
awakened  by  the  prospect  of  advancement,  and  the  certain  reward 
which  followed  merit;  in  a  word,  a  fresh  and  infinitely  higher 
and  more  productive  life,  civic,  social,  and  individual,  followed 
the  Italian  campaigns.  The  Emperor's  rule  was  despotic,  but  he 
was  then  abreast  with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and,  so  far  as  it  was 
possible  without  interfering  with  his  own  political  authority,  he 
promoted  social  progress  and  national  feeling  in  the  beautiful  land 
which  his  victories  had  won  from  a  score  of  bigoted  and  narrow 
rulers,  whose  despotism  combined  mean  intrigue  with  blind  cru- 
elty. To  the  large  middle  class  of  the  Peninsula,  and  especially 
to  the  educated  youth,  a  return  to  the  old  state  of  things  from 
this  vital  q,nd  progressive  ex[»erience  was  intolerable.  The  divis- 
ion of  the  country  between  Bourbons,  archduchesses,  and  popes, 
and  into  minute  states,  witli  the  resumption  of  the  base  system  of 
espionage,  secret  trials,  onerous  taxes,  impeded  navigation,  eccle- 
siastical privileges,  and  censorship,  was  alone  sufiicient  to  goad  a 
patriotic  mind  into  revolt  or  exile ;  but  when  Austrian  bayonets 
enforced  this  retrograde  and  tyrannic  rule,  and  the  mental  devel- 
opment, as  well  as  the  personal  rights,  of  citizens,  were  invaded 
by  brute  force,  upon  the  slightest  pretext,  it  may  easily  be  imag- 
ined that  indignant  protest  was  soon  followed  by  a  secret  compact 
37 


484        ^  THE    ITALIAN     MARTYR. 

to  overthrow,  by  the  gradual  formation  of  an  efficient  public 
sentiment,  —  to  vent  itself,  when  mature,  in  united  action, — the 
dynasties  which  thus  strove  to  bind,  inexorably,  the  living  frame 
of  an  awakened  nation  to  the  corpse  of  an  obsolete  and  unsanc- 
tioned rule.  Even  the  passing  traveller  sympathized  with  the 
regrets  of  the  inhabitants,  harassed  as  he  was,  at  every  frontier, 
by  passport  and  custom-house  regulations ;  and,  on  every  occa- 
sion when  a  good  road,  a  handsome  bridge,  or  any  other  rare 
sign  of  intelligent  enterprise,  met  his  eye,  referred  to  the  tempo 
dl  Napoleone  as  the  era  of  the  improvement. 

Like  a  mystical  web,  therefore,  Carbonarism  spread  over 
Europe.  Doubtless  the  association  included  many  incapable  of 
appreciating  the  grand  results  aimed  at  by  the  more  intelligent 
and  generous ;  many  united  themselves  to  the  league  from 
motives  of  selfishness ;  and  even  the  leading  spirits  committed 
the  fatal  error  of  seeking  the  alliance  of  kings  and  nobles,  whose 
pledges  were  as  hollow  as  their  patriotism.  Yet,  among  the 
innumerable  disciples  of  this  secret  and  extensive  combination 
were  some  of  the  noblest  and  most  gifted  men  of  the  age ;  and 
no  class  evinced  more  constancy,  good  faith,  and  self-sacrifice, 
than  the  band  of  Italian  youths  who  fell  victims  to  the  despotic 
cruelty  of  Francesco  I.  It  was,  however,  partly  in  self-defence 
that  he  adopted  the  extreme  course,  towards  these  brave  and 
patriotic  men,  which  brought  upon  his  rule  the  condemnation  of 
the  Christian  world.  He  saw  the  growing  conspiracy,  and  beheld, 
with  well-founded  apprehension,  his  brother  princes  give  in  their 
allegiance  to  a  body  whose  real  purpose  was  the  utter  destruction 
of  thrones.  To  secure  his  own,  by  striking  terror  into  the  ranks 
of  these  mysterious  allies,  he  determined  to  leave  no  means  untried 
to  discover  the  secrets  of  the  fraternity,  and  to  make  a  fearful 
example  of  those  upon  whom  he  could  plausibly  fix  the  charge 
of  complicity.  Hence  the  system  of  terrorism,  the  inquisitorial 
examinations,  the  long  suspense,  the  Jesuitical  espionage,  and, 
finally,  the  condemnation  to  scaffold  and  prison,  which  render  the 
experience  of  these  martyrs  often  as  piteous  as  that  of  the  early 
Christians,  and  as  horribly  mysterious  as  the  victims  of  the  Span- 
ish Inquisition,  or  the  Venetian  Council,  in  their  most  palmy 
days.     It  is  this   refinement   of  cruelty   which   has   rendered 


SILVIO    PELLICO.  435 

intamous  the  Austrian  government.  The  political  offenders  of 
Lombardj,  in  1820,  were  subjected  to  the  examination  of  com- 
missioners notoriously  venal  and  cruel.  No  opportunity  was 
allowed  them  to  prove  their  innocence ;  the  slightest  pretext 
sufficed  to  arouse  suspicion,  and,  when  this  occurred,  the  arrest 
followed.  Henceforth  the  prisoner  was  allowed  no  intercourse 
with  his  family ;  his  papers  were  seized,  his  companions  threat- 
ened ;  he  was  thrown  into  a  slimy  dungeon,  or  under  burning 
leads ;  allowed  only  inadequate  food ;  and  when  sleep,  brought  on 
by  the  exhaustion  consequent  on  these  cruelties,  came  to  his 
relief,  he  was  suddenly  aroused  at  midnight,  and  urged,  while  in 
a  state  of  half-somnolency,  to  confess,  to  give  up  the  name  of  a 
comrade,  or  to  sign  a  paper  which  would  prove  his  ruin.  Some- 
times his  sentence  was  announced,  and  he  was  told  to  prepare  for 
death  ;  at  others,  promises  of  freedom  and  office  were  held  out  on 
condition  of  betraying  a  friend  ;  false  news  of  painful  import  was 
conveyed  to  him,  in  order  to  induce  despair  or  turpitude ;  and 
thus  for  months,  and  sometimes  years,  he  was  basely  tortured 
before  his  real  fate  was  made  known  ;  and  at  last,  when  tyranny 
had  exhausted  her  wiles,  he  was  led  out  to  die,  or  secretly  con- 
veyed to  a  distant  and  living  tomb. 

As  the  dead  face  of  Caraccioli  reappeared  on  the  surface  of  the 
Bay  of  Naples,  and,  with  ghastly  reproach,  seemed  to  confront 
the  great  English  admiral  who  so  infamously  lent  himself  to  the 
sacrifice  of  an  Italian  patriot,  Pellico's  record  of  his  imprison- 
ment, translated  into  every  language,  seemed  to  rise,  by  virtue  of 
its  own  elevated  and  tender  sentiment,  to  the  view  of  Christen- 
dom. He  became  a  representative  man.  Through  his  revela- 
tions, sympathy  for  the  political  martyrs  of  his  country  was 
universally  awakened  ;  the  dark  deeds  of  Austria  came  to  light, 
and  the  names  of  her  noble  victims  were,  thenceforth,  passports 
to  the  hospitality  of  every  land  where  they  found  refuge.  This 
service  is  enough  to  consecrate  the  name  of  Silvio  Pellico ;  and, 
to  excuse  him,  in  the  sight  of  more  ardent  and  less  afflicted  com- 
rades, for  keeping  aloof,  during  the  few  years  that  remained  to 
him,  from  the  controversies  that  divided  even  his  own  party,  and 
the  hopeless  experiments  which  continued  to  send  annually  new 
devotees  of  freedom  to  prison   and  the   scaffold.      There  was 


436  THE     ITALIAN     MARTYR. 

another  reason  for  this  inactivity.  All  the  readers  of  Le  Mie 
Prigioni  must  remember  how  strong  in  the  author's  heart  was 
filial  devotion.  The  tie  which  bound  him  to  his  parents  was  of 
smgular  tenacity,  and  it  was  rendered  more  binding  by  years, 
not  only  of  separation,  but  of  entire  non-intercourse.  Accord- 
ingly, when  the  hour  of  liberation  came,  it  was  as  a  son  that  the 
poor  captive  most  earnestly  once  more  took  up  the  broken  thread 
of  social  life.  To  devote  himself  to  his  parents  was  his  first  and 
sacred  duty,  and  one  which  he  fulfilled.  The  danger  of  another 
forcible  separation  from  them  was  imminent ;  for  a  long  period 
after  his  release,  he  was  subject  to  vigilant  espionage ;  he  there- 
fore gratefully  accepted  the  office  of  librarian  to  a  benevolent  and 
noble  lady  of  Turin,  and  divided  his  time  between  his  parents 
and  his  books.  In  this  retirement  honors  often  reached  him. 
Few  living  authors  have  derived  such  literary  celebrity  and 
personal  affection  from  a  single  production.  The  Academy  of 
Sciences  did  not  admit  him  to  their  ranks ;  but  Gioberti  dedi- 
cated his  principal  work  to  the  gentle  martyr  of  Spielberg.  A 
highly  flattering  invitation  was  extended  to  him,  with  the  promise 
of  emolument,  to  make  France  his  residence.  Foscolo  desired 
that  he  might  be  buried  under  the  shadow  of  the  same  cross. 
Lord  Byron  would  have  satirized  Monti  had  not  Pellico  disarmed 
him  by  relating  several  noble  acts  of  his  brother  poet.  And 
scarcely  a  month  passed  that  some  admiring  traveller  did  not 
solicit  the  pleasure  of  grasping  his  hand,  in  testimony  of  the  love 
his  sufferings,  and  his  resignation,  and  his  genius,  had  inspired. 
Nor  let  it  be  supposed  that  he  h;id  grown  indifferent  to  his  coun- 
try. On  his  death-be<l  he  suid  to  a  friend:  "  S'ingannano  quelli, 
che  ritengono  che  io  non  amo  pi  a  I'indipendenza  italiiina ;  io  solo 
mi  ritirai  dagli  uomini,  che  vi  avevano  una  parte  attiva  dal 
memento  che  vidi  immischiarvisi  il  Mazzinismo,  il  quale  sempre 
vorra  turbare  quella  santa  impresa.  II  mio  carattere  non  si 
affaceva  alia  doppia  lotta."  *     He  felt  deeply  the  misrepresenta- 

•  *•  They  deceive  themselves  who  hold  that  I  do  not  love  Italian  independence. 
I  only  withdrew  myself  from  men  who  had  taken  an  active  part,  from  the 
moment  I  saw  them  mingle  themselves  with  Mazzini-ism,  which  always  seeks  to 
disturb  that  holy  undertaking.  My  character  will  not  admit  of  thia  double 
struggle." 


SILVIO     PELLICO.  437 

tion  of  his  political  critics.     "  I  left  Spielberg,"  says  one  of  his 
letters,   "to   suffer  another  martyrdom    in  my  own  country  — 
calumny,  desertion,  and  scorn,  which  have  stripped  all  earthly 
illusion  from  life." 

It  is  not  uncommon  to  regard  sense  and  sentiment  as  antago- 
nistic  ;  the  great  truth,  that  they  blend  in  the  highest  natures,  is 
not  sufficiently  recognized.  The  effect  produced  by  Le  Mie 
Prigioni  is  a  valuable  illustration  of  this  fact.  The  work  is  a 
truthful  statement  of  an  individual's  experience,  under  the  sen- 
tence of  Austria  for  the  honest  exercise  of  an  individual  and 
natural  right.  There  are  no  details  given  of  the  specific  charge, 
the  means  used  to  extort  evidence,  or  the  facts  of  the  trial ;  not 
a  word  of  invective  appears  throughout.  After  the  incident  of 
the  arrest,  we  are  taken  to  the  prisoner's  cell,  and  admitted  to 
his  inmost  consciousness ;  we  hear  him  sigh,  we  behold  his  tears, 
watch  his  sleep,  listen  to  his  prayers,  and  become  witnesses  of. 
the  monotonous  external,  but  vivid  inward  life,  of  those  years  of 
incarceration.  The  great  idea  derived  from  this  memorial  is,  that 
a  man  of  rare  endowments,  of  the  deepest  sensibility,  of  the  high- 
est aspirations,  and  most  pure  aims,  is  forcibly  separated  from  the 
world  of  nature  and  humanity,  —  his  sacred  birthright, — shut 
up  with  felons,  invested  with  the  livery  of  crime,  denied  com- 
munion with  books,  subjected  to  the  greatest  physical  discipline 
and  moral  isolation ;  and,  although  the  author  of  this  great  wrong 
is  scarcely  alluded  to,  we  revert  to  him,  for  this  very  reason,  with 
the  deeper  indignation,  and  follow  the  pen  of  the  generous  martyr 
with  more  profound  sympathy.  Vengeance  could  not  have  imag- 
ined, nor  wit  fashioned,  a  work  so  well  adapted  to  operate  on 
public  opinion  ;  and  yet,  so  far  from  being  the  product  of  a 
shrewd  or  vindictive  mind,  it  is  the  simple  overflowing  of  a 
frank  and  benign  spirit ;  and,  by  virtue  of  the  very  resignation, 
patience,  love,  and  truth,  it  breathes,  it  became  a  seal  of  condem- 
nation to  the  Austrian  government,  and  an  appeal  for  the  Lib- 
erals of  Italy  throughout  the  civilized  world  !  Even  the  censors 
of  a  jealous  monarch  were  blind  to  its  latent  significance.  The 
priests  regarded  it  as  a  testimony  to  the  efficacy  of  their  creed ; 
the  Royalists  thought  it  the  confession  of  a  penitent  republican ; 
and  the  Liberals  hailed  it  as  an  elor^uent  picture  of  the  cruelty 
37* 


438  THE    ITALIAN    MARTYR. 

of  despotic  rule.  But  while  thus  understood  in  Italy,  the  world 
at  large  was  absorbed  in  the  revelation  it  afforded,  so  clear, 
unstudied,  and  authentic,  of  the  possible  fate  of  a  man  of  rare 
worth  and  genius,  who  dared  to  write  and  act  for  his  country,  in 
the  state  of  Lombardy,  and  during  the  nineteenth  century. 

For  several  years  Silvio  Pellico  has  been  regarded,  even  in  the 
community  where  he  dwelt,  as  dead  to  the  world,  —  utterly  with- 
drawn from  the  active  interests  of  social  life,  and  even  indifferent 
to  that  great  cause  of  political  reform  in  behalf  of  which  he  so 
bravely  suffered.  It  was  in  a  resigned,  and  not  in  a  misanthropic 
spirit,  however,  that  he  lived.  His  motto  was,  "  Leggo,  penso, 
amo  gli  amid,  iioii  odio  7iessimo,  rispetto  le  ali?'ul  opinioni  e 
conservo  le  miey  This  isolation  was  self-imposed  in  a  degree, 
yet  circumstances  scarcely  appreciated  by  the  uninformed  and 
enthusiastic,  seem  to  us  not  only  to  render  it  excusable,  but 
wise.  The  privation  and  moral  anguish  incident  to  a  rigorous 
imprisonment,  unalleviated  by  physical  comfort,  books,  or  the 
least  knowledge  of  the  external  world,  affect  individuals  accord- 
ing to  their  temperament  and  character.  The  resignation  and 
self-control  so  remarkable  in  Pellico  did  not  prevent  the  most 
terrible  influence  upon  his  organization ;  while,  in  the  case  of 
Foresti,  a  chronic  disease  of  the  digestive  organs  was  induced  by 
sparse  nourishment  and  incarceration,  and  Maroncelli's  limb  mor- 
tified from  the  irritation  of  fever  brought  on  by  the  same  trials, 
Pellico,  being  of  a  highly  nervous  p/ii/sique,  experienced  a 
cerebral  attack ;  and,  although  the  duration  of  his  captivity  was 
several  years  less  than  that  of  some  of  his  companions,  they, 
when  released,  in  many  instances,  exhibited  greater  vigor  of 
body  and  mind.  No  one,  who  has  perused  the  affecting  record 
of  this  gifted  man's  life  in  prison,  need  be  informed  that  a  more 
sensitive  being  has  seldom  lived.  Of  a  delicate  frame,  with  the 
keenest  sense  of  beauty,  a  heart  tender,  loyal,  and  devoted,  a 
mind  imbued  with  the  love  of  letters,  and  a  natural  piety  which 
made  him  alive  to  all  the  teachings  of  human  existence,  who 
can  wonder,  that,  suddenly  deprived  of  home,  friends,  the  scenes 
of  nature,  and  the  scope  required  by  a  healthy  and  cultivated  intel- 
lect, his  constitution  received  a  fatal  shock,  which  rendered 
him,  when  again  restored  to  society,  unfit  to  mingle  in  its  bustle 


SILVIO     PELLICO.  439 

and  festivities  ?  Who  can  blame  a  man ,  thus  organized  and  thus 
subdued,  for  retreating  to  a  domestic  nook,  to  Avatch  over  his  aged 
pai'ents,  and  avoid  the  excitement  of  outward  life  ?  Silvio  Pel- 
lico's  sufferings  rendered  him  prematurely  old.  He  could,  with 
reason,  plead  for  serenity  as  the  only  boon  left.  The  harmony  of 
his  nature  had  been  fatidly  disturbed  by  the  wrongs  he  had  suf- 
fered ;  mind  and  body  no  longer  acted  in  effective  concert ;  the 
pallor,  born  of  a  dungeon's  shadow,  rested  on  his  high  and  smooth 
forehead ;  his  sight  was  dimmed  by  years  of  twilight,  his  voice 
tremulous  from  the  sighs  of  captivity.  Instead  of  a  stern  indig- 
nation, a  firm  antagonism  of  mood,  such  as  many  of  his  comrades 
had  maintained  during  their  long  imprisonment,  Pellico  sought  to 
cherish  a  gentle,  forgiving,  and  patient  state  of  mind,  beautiful  in 
itself,  but  so  destitute  of  the  element  of  resistance  that  the  iron 
of  tyranny,  if  it  did  not  so  deeply  enter  his  soul,  more  entirely 
prostrated  his  organism.  Yet,  to  the  last,  he  found  comfort  in 
his  affectionate  correspondence.  "  My  health  is  gone,"  he  wrote 
to  Foresti,  his  fellow-prisoner,  and  so  long  the  endeared  Italian 
exile,  and  favorite  teacher  of  his  native  tongue  in  New  York, 
"  and  I  with  difficulty  survive  threatening  suffocation.  Yet  life 
has  its  consolations.  Never  forget  the  gifts  of  intelligence  and 
of  feeling  which  developed  in  you  during  our  common  misfortune. 
I  have  learned  that  but  little  is  needed  to  beautify  existence,  save 
the  society  of  the  loved  and  honorable." 

The  era  of  Pellico' s  early  youth  was  not  favorable  to  earnest- 
ness of  character.  He  imbibed  some  of  the  ideas  set  afloat  in  the 
world  of  thought  by  the  followers  of  Voltaire,  and  his  first  literary 
tastes  were  unavoidably  tinged  with  the  superficial  views  incident 
to  tlie  absence  of  faith  which  marked  the  era  succeeding  the 
French  Revolution ;  but  his  nature  was  too  pure  and  aspiring  to 
succumb  to  these  prevalent  influences.  Some  of  his  contempo- 
rary authors  were  inspired  by  serious  convictions;  it  was  the 
epoch  of  Foscolo,  and  that  gifted  band  of  Italian  poets  and  thinkers 
of  which  he  was  a  central  figure.  At  the  house  of  the  nobleman 
in  Milan  to  whose  children  he  was  preceptor,  Pellico  associated 
with  the  best  thinkers  and  writers  of  Lombardy.  He  there  formed 
the  acquaintance  of  many  eminent  persons  —  among  them  Count 
Porro,  Byron,  Brougham,  Thorwaldsen,  Schlegel,  and  Madame 


440  THE     ITALIAN     MARTYR. 

de  Stael.  His  contributions  to  the  Conciliatore  were  distin- 
guished for  the  grace  and  elegance  of  their  style,  and  at  this 
period  both  the  motive  and  the  means  of  literary  culture  were 
fully  enjoyed.  The  transition  from  such  a  sphere  to  a  prison  led 
him  to  reflect,  with  new  zest,  upon  the  discipline  of  life,  the  mys- 
teries of  the  soul,  and  the  truths  of  revelation.  His  latent  reli- 
gious sentiment  was  awakened.  His  heart,  thrust  back  from  the 
amenities  of  cultivated  society  and  the  delight  of  kindred,  turned 
to  God  with  a  zeal  and  a  singleness  of  purpose  before  unknown. 
He  became  devout,  and  experienced  the  solace  and  the  elevation 
of  Christian  faith.  There  have  been  critics  who  pretend  to  see 
in  this  perfectly  natural  result  orlly  a  proof  of  weakness,  or  an 
indication  of  despair.  The  candid  utterance  of  pious  feeling  in 
his  Prlgioni  was  regarded,  by  the  cynical,  as  evidence  of  a  broken 
spirit  and  when  he  persevered  in  retirement  and  the  offices  of 
his  faith,  after  emancipation,  it  was  said  that  the  wiles  of  Jesuit- 
ism had  made  him  a  victim  and  induced  his  political  abdication. 
But  no  one  can  examine  the  writings  of  Pellico  without  feeling 
that  he  was  evidently  a  man  of  sentiment.  It  was  this  quality, 
as  contrasted  with  the  severity  of  Alfieri,  that  fii*st  gained  him 
popularity  as  a  dramatic  writer,  that  endeared  him  to  family  and 
friends,  and  that  made  him  a  patriot  and  a  poet.  Solitude,  by 
the  very  laws  of  nature,  where  such  a  being  is  concerned,  devel- 
oped his  religious  sentiment ;  and  to  the  predominance  of  this, 
united  with  physical  disability,  is  to  be  ascribed  his  passive  and 
hermit  life.  It  should  be  a  cause  of  praise,  and  not  of  reproach. 
He  was  true  to  himself;  and  in  view  alone  of  the  sincerity  and 
the  consolation  he  obviously  derived  from  religion,  we  are.  not 
disposed  to  quarrel  with  his  Catholicism.  The  errors  of  that 
creed  had  no  power  over  his  generous  and  simple  nature ;  it  was 
hallov»ed  to  him  by  early  association,  and  by  parental  sanctions ; 
and  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  accepted  its  ministrations  with 
superstitious  imbecility,  but  rather  in  a  spirit  above  and  beyond 
forms,  and  deeply  cognizant  of  essential  truth. 


THE  POPULAR  POET 

THOMAS   CAMPBELL. 


When  Burns  was  on  his  death-bed,  he  said  to  a  fellow-member 
of  his  military  corps,  "  Don't  let  the  awkward  squad  fire  over 
me."  There  is  an  awkward  squad  in  the  ranks  of  all  professions, 
and  most  earnestly  is  their  service  to  be  deprecated  on  any  occa- 
sions calling  for  solemnity  or  tenderness.  Then  we  demand  what 
is  graceful,  harmonious,  and  efficient.  Yet  it  is  the  constant  fate 
of  genius  to  be  tried  by  other  arbiters  than  its  peers,  to  be  pro- 
faned by  idle  curiosity  and  malignant  gossip.  The  "awkward 
squad  "  in  literature  not  only  fire  over  the  graves  of  poets,  but 
are  wont  to  discharge  annoying  batteries  of  squibs  at  them  while 
living.  The  peimy-a-liiiers  scent  a  celebrity  afar  off,  and  hunt  it 
with  the  pertinacity  of  hounds ;  they  flock  in  at  the  death  like  a 
brood  of  vultures  ;  and  often,  without  the  ability  either  to  sympa- 
thize with  or  to  respect  the  real  claims  they  pretend  to  honor, 
show  up  the  foibles,  mutilate  the  sayings,  and  fabricate  the  doings, 
of  those  whose  unostentatious  private  lives,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
dignity  of  their  public  fame,  should  protect  them  from  microscopic 
observation  and  vulgar  comment. 

No  modern  English  poet  has  suffered  more  from  this  kind  of 
notoriety  than  Campbell.  Unlike  his  brother  bards,  he  neither 
sought  rural  seclusion  nor  foreign  exile,  but  continued  to  haunt 
cities  to  the  last ;  and  it  is  refreshing  to  turn  from  the  hackneyed 
sketches  of  him  in  the  magazines  to  his  own  letters  and  the  history 
of  his  early  career,  and  revive  our  best  impressions  of  his  character. 


442  THE     POPULAR     POET. 

To  do  this  we  must  discard  what  is  irrelevant,  and  contemplate 
the  essential.  The  only  demand  we  have  any  moral  right  to 
make  upon  the  bard  who  has  enlisted  our  hearts  by  his  song,  is 
that  there  exist  in  his  actions  and  tone  of  feeling  a  spirit  consist- 
ent with  the  sentiments  deliberately  advocated  in  his  verse.  There 
is  no  reason  whatever  to  expect  in  him  immunity  from  error;  we 
are  irrational  to  look  for  a  beauty  of  feature,  a  mnjesty  of  life, 
and  an  evenness  of  temper,  corresponding  with  the  ideal  created 
by  the  finish  and  exaltation  of  his  poetry ;  but  if  baseness  deface 
the  behavior  and  indifference  chill  the  intercourse  of  him  who 
has  eloquently  breathed  into  the  ear  of  the  world  noble  and  glow- 
ing emotion,  we  are  justified  in  feeling  not  only  disappointment, 
but  almost  scepticism  as  to  the  reality  of  these  divine  sympathies. 
Such  an  anomaly  we  do  not  believe  possible  in  the  nature  of 
things.  In  spite  of  what  is  so  often  asserted  of  the  discrepancy 
between  authorship  and  character,  literary  biography  demon- 
strates that  "  as  a  man  thinketh  so  is  he." 

Milton  and  Dante,  Goldsmith  and  Petrarch,  were  essentially 
what  their  works  proclaim  them,  although  the  former  occasionally 
exhibited  asceticism,  which  is  the  extreme  of  that  genius  whose 
characteristic  is  will,  and  the  latter  sometimes  displayed  the 
weakness  which,  in  our  human  frailty,  attaches  to  the  genius 
whose  main  principle  is  love.  A  touch  of  pedantry  and  hardihood 
filightly  deforms  the  images  of  those  august  spirits  who  explored 
the  unseen  world,  as  vanity  and  egotism  mar  the  serene  beauty 
of  the  gentler  minstrels  who  sung  of  the  tender  passion  and  the 
charms  of  domestic  life.  "Were  it  otherwise,  they  would  eclipse 
instead  of  representing  humanity.  There  is  a  process  of  metro- 
politan decadence  to  which  literary  celebrities  are  liable,  especially 
in  London,  for  which  we,  whose  privilege  it  is  to  look  upon  them 
over  the  grand  perspective  of  the  sea,  should  make  just  allowance. 
The  most  absurd  whim  of  modern  society  is  that  of  making  what 
are  called  lions  of  authors,  and  especially  of  poets.  No  class  of 
men  appear  to  less  advantage  in  a  conventional  position ;  and  no 
two  principles  can  be  more  radically  adverse  than  that  of  mutual 
agreeableness,  conformity,  and  display,  of  which  society  techni- 
cally considered  is  the  arena,  and  the  spirit  of  earnestness,  nature, 
and  freedom,  characteristic  of  poets.     Idolized  as  they  usually 


THOMAS     CAMPBELL.  443 

are,  and  with  good  reason,  in  the  d'omestic  circle  and  among  inti- 
mate friends,  the  very  qualities  which  are  there  elicited  general 
society  keeps  in  abeyance.  Tact  is  the  desideratum  in  the  latter 
as  truth  is  in  the  former :  and  thouo^h  sometimes  the  natural  diu- 
nity  and  manliness  of  genius  successfully  asserts  itself  in  the  face 
of  pretence  fortified  by  etiquette,  as  in  the  case  of  Burns  at  Edin- 
burgh, the  exception  is  too  memorable  not  to  have  been  rare. 
The  consequence  of  this  want  of  relation  between  the  spirit  of 
society  and  the  poetic  character  is  that  a  formal  homage  is  paid 
its  representatives  on  their  first  appearance,  which,  at  length, 
becomes  wearisome  to  both  parties ;  and,  if  the  time-honored 
guest  has  not  the  wisdom  to  anticipate  his  social  decay  and  with^ 
draw  into  honorable  retirement,  those  upon  whose  memories  the 
prestige  of  his  original  reputation  does  not  rest  are  apt  to  fail  in 
that  recognition  which  habit  has  made  almost  necessary  to  his 
self-respect. 

The  admirers  of  dramatic  and  musical  genius  keenly  regret  the 
reappeai-ance  of  the  favorites  of  their  youth  in  public,  only  to 
awaken  the  unfeeling  curiosity  of  a  new  generation  ;  and  some- 
what of  the  same  melancholy  attaches  to  the  prolonged  social 
exhibition  of  a  man  whose  verse  has  rendered  his  name  sacred 
to  our  associations  and  remembrance.  That  familiarity  which 
breeds  contempt  denies  the  original  glory  of  his  presence.  The 
name  freely  bandied  at  the  feast  comes  to  be  repeated  with  less 
reverence  at  the  fireside.  The  voice,  whose  lowest  accent  was 
once  caught  with  breathless  interest,  is  suffered  to  lose  itself  in 
the  hum  of  commonplace  table-talk  ;  and  the  brow  to  which  every 
eye  used  to  turn  with  sympathetic  wonder  seems  no  longer  to 
wear  the  mysterious  halo  with  which  love  and  fancy  crown  the 
priests  of  nature.  And  usually  the  victim  of  this  gradual  dis- 
enchantment is  quite  unconscious  of  the  change,  until  suddenly 
aroused  to  its  reality.  Aware  of  no  blight  upon  his  tree  of 
promise,  inspired  by  the  same  feelings  which  warmed  his  youth, 
wedded  to  the  same  tastes,  and  loyal  to  the  same  sentiments,  with 
a  kind  of  childlike  trustfulness  he  reposes  upon  his  own  identity, 
and  is  slow  to  believe  in  the  precarious  tenure  upon  which  merely 
social  distinction  is  held. 

To  a  reverent  and  generous  spectator  this  is  one  of  those  scenes 


444  THE    POPULAR    POET. 

in  the  drama  of  life,  which  is  the  more  affecting  because  so  few 
look  upon  it  with  interest.  We  sigh  at  the  fragility  of  personal 
renown,  and  pitj  the  enthusiasm  that  seems  doomed  to  "  make 
idols  and  to  find  them  clay."  Then  how  enviable  appear  those 
who  ''are  gathered  to  the  kings  of  thought,  far  in  the  unap- 
parent," — the  young  poet  who  died  in  the  freshness  of  his  life, 
and  the  aged  bard  who  seasonably  retreated  to  the  sequestered 
haunts  of  nature,  and  breathed  his  last  far  from  the  busy  world 
where  the  echo  of  his  fame  yet  lingered  !  We  are  chiefly  pained, 
in  the  opposite  case,  at  the  difficulty  of  associating  the  author 
with  his  works,  the  written  sentiment  with  the  ordinary  talk,  the 
poet  with  the  man,  when  we  are  thus  brought  into  habitual  con- 
tact with  the  social  effigy  of  genius.  We  are  also  mortified  at 
the  inconsistency  of  feeling  which  leads  men  to  guard  and  cher- 
ish an  architectural  fnigment,  and  yet  interpose  no  wise  and 
charitable  hand  to  preserve  from  sacrilege  "creation's  master- 
piece, the  poet  soul ;  "  which  expends  such  hero-worship  upon  the 
distant  and  the  dead,  but  holds  up  no  shield  between  the  great- 
ness at  their  side  and  the  indifferent  or  perhaps  malicious  gaze 
of  the  world.  Modern  phihmthropy  has  furnished  asylums  for 
almost  all  the  physical  and  moi*al  ills  to  which  flesh  is  heir ;  but 
the  award  of  celebrity  apparently  cancels  the  obligations  of  society 
towards  the  gifted.  If  improvident,  as  is  usually  the  case,  pov- 
erty and  neglect  arc  often  their  lot  in  age  ;  and  if  prosperous  in 
circumstances,  but  bereft  of  near  and  genial  ties,  they  are  home- 
less, and  consequently  reckless. 

Instances  of  private  sensibility  to  claims  like  these,  not  only 
felt  but  realized  with  beautiful  zeal,  are  indeed  recorded  to  the 
honor  of  our  common  nature;  and  such  benefiictors  as  Mrs. 
Unwin,  the  friend  of  Cowper,  and  the  Gilmans,  at  whose  house 
Coleridge  died,  will  live  in  honor  when  more  ostentatious  almoners 
are  forgotten.  Let  us  congratulate  ourselves  that  we  are  seldom 
among  the  witnesses  of  the  social  decadence  of  our  fiivorite 
English  authors.  Freshly  to  us  yet  beams  their  morning  fame ; 
we  know  them  only  through  their  works,  and  death  has  but  can- 
onized what  love  had  endeared.  There  is  no  dreary  interlude 
between  the  glorious  overture  and  the  solemn  finale.  Their  gar- 
lands, to  our  vision,  press  unwithered  brows.     The  music  of  their 


THOMAS     CAMPBELL.  445 

names  has  never  lost  its  spirit-stirring  cadence ;  when  uttered,, 
memorable  and  eloquent  passages  recur,  as  "at  the  touch  of  an 
enchanter's  wand."'  "We  think  of  Byron  as  he  describes  himself 
in  his  romantic  pilgrimage,  not  as  he  appeared  at  Holland  House 
and  Drurj.  Shelley's  memory  is  undimmed  by  the  air  of  a 
chancery  court,  and  remains  as  lofty,  pure,  and  ethereal,  as  his 
funeral  pyre ;  and  Burns  we  never  saw  performing  excise  duties. 
But  of  all  the  modern  poets  of  Great  Britain,  the  one  whoso 
memory  we  could  have  least  suffered  to  be  desecrated  was  Carip- 
bell ;  and  we  rejoice  to  have  known  him  as  the  bard  of  Hope,  and 
not  as  Tom  Campbell,  especially  as  his  correspondence  exhibits  his 
eminent  title  to  poetical  character  as  well  as  genius,  and  repudiates 
the  shallow  gossip  which  drew  such  superficial  portraits  of  him  in 
later  years. 

We  find  in  these  letters  that  Campbell  the  man  w^as  worthy j)f 
Campbell  the  poet ;  and  that  the  ideal  we  had  cherished  of  the 
author  of  Grertinide  and  Hohenlinden  was  essentially  true  to 
nature.  The  manner  in  which  he  has  been  dealt  with,  even  by 
literary  men,  and  especially  by  social  detractors,  is  only  another 
illustration  of  the  humiliating  truth  that  "  Folly  loves  the  mar- 
tyrdom of  Fame.''  Our  view  of  the  character  of  distinguished 
persons  is  three-fold  :  that  derived  from  the  deeds  or  writings  upon 
which  their  fame  rests,  the  report  of  contemporaries,  and  their 
own  memoirs  and  letters.  Between  the  first  and  last  there 
is  usually  some  essential  harmony,  but  the  intermediate  link  in 
the  chain  of  evidence  seldom  comcides  with  either.  The  decease 
of  a  renowned  person  is  followed  by  the  publication  of  his  life, 
and  recently  it  has  been  the  wise  and  just  custom  to  rely  as  far  as 
possible  on  the  testimony  of  the  subject,  rather  than  the  opinions 
of  the  biographer. 

The  result  is  that  the  misrepresentations  and  partial  glimpses 
afforded  by  rumor  and  ambitious  scribblers  give  way  before  the 
direct  and  authentic  revelation  of  facts  and  personal  correspond- 
ence, and  we  enjoy  the  high  satisfaction  of  reconciling  the  man 
and  the  author,  and  the  assurance  that  the  sentiment  and  tone 
which  originally  endeared  to  us  the  one  were  truly  embodied  in 
the  other.  How  different  is  the  view  now  cherished  of  Burns, 
Byron,  Keats^  and  Lamb,  from  that  prevalent  before  we  were 
38 


446  THE     POPULAR     POET. 

fully  admitted  to  a  knowledge  of  their  trials,  habits,  temptations^ 
and  ways  of  feeling  and  acting,  by  the  record  of  sorrowing 
friends,  and  the  appearance  of  their  familiar  and  confidential  let- 
ters !  In  consideration  of  the  inveterate  tendency  to  exaggerate 
and  distort  the  simple  facts  of  a  marked  career,  it  would  seem 
not  only  excusable  but  requisite  for  those  who  have  won  the  pecu- 
liar sympathy  or  admiration  of  the  world,  to  write  an  autobiog- 
raphy. Such  a  work,  undertaken  in  the  spirit  and  executed  with 
the  frank  good-nature  which  belong  to  those  of  Cellini,  Alfieri, 
Goldoni,  and  we  may  add,  as  a  recent  instance,  the  fragments  of 
Southey  and  Ilaydon,  are  better  portraits  to  bequeath  than  the 
formal  and  incomplete  lives  too  often  substituted  by  the  zeal  of 
friendship  or  the  enterprise  of  authors. 

Next  to  a  good  autobiography,  however,  the  best  service  which 
can  be  rendered  departed  genius  is  to  bring  together  and  unite  by  an 
intelligent  and  genuine  narrative  such  personal  memorials  as  most 
clearly  represent  the  man  as  he  was.  However  unambitious,  the- 
task  is  one  of  sacred  responsibility,  due  not  less  to  the  enthusiasm 
which  cherishes,  than  to  the  gifts  which  hallow,  posthumous 
renown.  "We  can  then  trace  the  elements  of  character  as  devel- 
oped in  boyhood,  estimate  the  influence  of  education  and  circum- 
stances, and  recognize  the  domestic  and  social  life  of  those 
whose  personal  reputation  may  have  appeared  incongruous  with 
their  permanent  fame  ;  thus  realizing  the  process  and  the  principle 
of  their  eminence.  It  is  not  eulogy  which  we  require ;  that,  if 
deserved,  is  apparent  in  the  deeds  or  words  which  have  become  a 
passport  to  glory ;  it  is  facts,  sentiments,  familiar  illustrations, 
whereby  to  judge  for  ourselves  of  the  man  whose  name  is  indis- 
Bolubly  associated  in  our  minds  with  the  inspiration  of  heroism 
and  poetry.  The  characters  of  a  poet  and  a  man  of  letters  are 
BO  often  blended  in  literary  memoirs  as  to  appear  identical,  but 
their  distinctness  in  nature  is  marked  by  inevitable  traits. 
Seldom  has  the  difference  between  the  two  been  more  clearly 
indicated  than  in  the  biography  of  Campbell ;  and  the  illustration 
is  more  emphatic  from  the  fact  that  we  are  admitted  to  his  expe- 
rience and  opinions  through  familiar  correspondence. 

The  grand  peculiarity  of  the  poetic  nature  is  faith  in  sentiment 
of  some  kind,  obedience  to  its  inspiration,  delight  in  its  utterance, 


THOMAS     CAMPBELL.  447 

and  loyalty  to  its  dictates.  Neither  time,  nor  interest,  nor  logic, 
suffice  to  exhaust  or  modify  this  vital  principle.  Where  it  fails 
to  triumph  over  these,  it  is  evidently  inadequate  to  justify  the 
title  of  bard,  minstrel,  poet,  or  whatever  name  we  apply  to  those 
upon  whose  minds  its  influence  is  pervading  and  instinctive.  To 
infuse  the  life  of  his  own  spirit,  the  glow  of  his  personal  emotion, 
into  thought  and  language,  is  the  characteristic  of  the  poet.  His 
words  differ  from  those  of  other  men  chiefly  by  virtue  and  a  mag- 
netic quality.  They  appeal  to  consciousness  leather  than  under- 
standing, to  the  entire  soul  instead  of  the  exclusive  intellect. 
Hence  they  have  power  to  stir  the  blood,  linger  on  the  ear,  excite 
the  imagination,  and  warm  the  heart.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
man  of  letters  can  only  gi-asp  the  technicalities  of  the  art  and 
wield  the  machinery  of  verse.  As  youth  decays,  as  circumstances 
alter,  as  public  taste  varies,  the  enthusiasm  which,  at  first,  gave 
a  temporary  fire  to  his  rhythmical  writing,  is  subdued  to  such  a 
degree  as  to  render  his  so-called  muse  a  very  flexible  and  hack- 
neyed creature  —  the  mere  of^gy  of  what  she  once  promised  to  be. 
The  genuine  poet,  on  the  contrary,  strives  in  vain  to  reconcile 
himself  to  the  mechanical  drudgery  of  the  pen ;  is  coy  of  an  art 
whose  real  excellence  he  has  too  keenly  felt  to  be  satisfied  with 
any  "counterfeit  presentment ; "  and  lives  on,  wedded  by  an  eternal 
affinity  to  the  love  of  his  youth,  although  he  may  have  outgrown 
all  relation  to  it  but  that  of  veneration  and  remembrance.  The 
few  gems  of  the  latter  outlive  the  mines  opened  by  the  former ; 
scintillations  of  lyric  fire,  radiated  from  an  earnest  heart  and  gen- 
cnited  by  its  native  warmth,  beam  on  like  stars  in  the  firmament ; 
while  the  elaborate  productions  of  tasteful  and  learned  industry 
"  fiide  into  the  light  of  common  day."  Only  a  felicitous  passage, 
a  theme  accidentally  enlivened  by  an  impulse  from  individual 
life,  redeems  the  ingenious  and  diffuse  metrical  composition  from 
oblivion ;  but  the  spontaneous  product  of  an  inspired  mind 
becomes  a  household  and  a  national  treasure. 

CampbelFs  early  life  gave  promise  of  this  healthful  endowment 
of  the  poetic  faculty.  He  was  a  devoted  student,  and,  although 
constantly  bearing  off  prizes,  won  and  retained  the  love  of  his 
companions.  They  once  owed  a  holiday  to  his  rhymed  petition, 
and  such  instances  of  the  lovinir  exercise  of  his  talents  were  of 


448  THE     POPULAR     POET. 

frequent  occurrence.  His  success  at  college  was  eminent  in 
Greek ;  and  the  temperament  of  genius  was  evinced  in  the 
extreme  alternation  of  his  moods.  Although  often  in  high  spirits, 
when  his  deeper  feelings  became  enlisted,  gravity  ensued.  He 
made  the  most  obvious  progress  both  in  facility  and  power  of 
expression,  as  we  perceive  by  the  gradual  improvement  in  the 
style  of  his  letters  and  occasional  verses.  But  the  most  satisfac- 
tory indication  of  his  poetical  gifts  we  find  in  the  ardor,  con- 
stancy, and  generous  faith,  of  his  sentiments.  In  friendship, 
domestic  intercourse,  literary  taste,  and  the  observation  of  nature, 
there  was  evident,  from  the  first,  an  enthusiasm  and  sensibility 
which  gave  the  fairest  promise  as  they  brought  him  into  vital 
relation  with  these  sources  of  moral  and  sentient  experience. 

The  early  correspondence  of  few  poets  has  a  more  truthful 
charm  and  graceful  warmth.  It  reveals  his  heart  and  confirms 
the  tenor  of  his  poems.  His  visits  to  the  Highlands  —  a  residence 
of  some  months  in  Germany,  and  the  study  of  the  literature  of 
the  latter  country,  with  the  society  of  Edinburgh,  all  combined, 
at  this  most  susceptible  and  enthusiastic  period,  to  inform,  excite, 
and  chasten  his  mind.  Thus  enriched  and  disciplined,  with  the 
most  limited  pecuniary  resources,  and  the  greatest  uncertainty 
as  to  what  career  he  should  adopt,  the  young  poet  was  singularly 
exposed  to  the  impressions  of  a  period,  when  even  the  insensible 
and  unenlightened  were  aroused  to  interest  in  public  affairs,  the 
welfare  of  society,  and  the  progress  of  mankind.  It  was  an  epoch 
of  war  and  of  philanthropy,  of  revolution  and  experiment,  of  the 
most  infernal  tyranny  and  the  noblest  self-devotion.  The  over- 
throw of  slavery  was  then  first  agitated  ;  Poland  and  Greece  hero- 
ically struggled,  and  the  mavtynlora  of  the  former  was  achieved. 
The  elements  of  civil  society  were  deeply  moved ;  the  cause  of 
truth  and  liberty  inspired  fresh  championship,  and  the  wrongs  of 
humanity  made  themselves  felt.  At  this  time  he  meditated  emi- 
grating to  America,  where  one  of  his  brothers  was  already  estab- 
lished. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  several  of  the  distinguished  modem 
poets  of  England  —  among  them  Coleridge,  Southey,  and  Keats 
—  entertained  similar  views ;  and  it  is  an  equally  curious  specu- 
lation to  imagine  how  such  a  course  would  have  modified  their 


THOMAS     CAMPBELL.  449 

"writings  and  destiny.  Campbell,  also,  with  true  poetical  consist- 
ency, recoiled  from  the  professions  and  commerce ;  and  thus,  by 
the  force  of  circumstances  as  well  as  the  promptings  of  genius, 
seemed  destined  for  a  literary  life.  This  vague  purpose  Avas  con- 
firmed by  the  unprecedented  success  of  his  first  poem.  There  is 
no  instance,  perhaps,  in  the  annals  of  literature,  of  so  instantane- 
ous and  complete  a  recognition  of  the  advent  of  a  poet  as  followed 
the  appearance  of  the  ''Pleasures  of  Hope."  It  introduced  him 
at  once  to  fame  and  society ;  and  it  did  this  by  virtue  of  the  elo- 
quent utterance  it  gave  to  feelings  which  then  latently  glowed  in 
every  noble  heart.  Like  a  bugle  whose  echoes  speak  the  morn- 
ing cheer  which  exhilarates  the  frame  of  the  newly-roused  hunter, 
it  caught  up,  rendered  musical  and  prolonged  the  strains  of  pity, 
hope,  and  faith,  rife,  though  seldom  audible,  in  the  world. 

It  is  essential  to  poetry  of  this  nature  that  the  sensibilities 
should  be  acted  upon  by  some  actual  scene,  person,  or  event ;  and 
accordingly  we  find  that  every  successful  composition  of  Campbell 
has  a  personal  basis.  To  this,  indeed,  we  may  ascribe  that  spirit 
of  reality  which  constitutes  the  distinction  between  forced  and 
spontaneous  verse.  His  muse,  when  herself,  is  awake,  magnetic, 
and  spirited  ;  the  sense  of  beauty,  or  the  enthusiasm  of  love  and 
freedom,  being  naturally  excited,  utter  themselves  in  fervid 
strains.  Thus  the  apostrophe  to  Poland,  and  the  protest  against 
scepticism,  the  appeal  to  the  disappointed  lover,  the  description 
of  mutual  happiness,  and,  in  fact,  all  the  animated  episodes  in 
the  "  Pleasures  of  Hope,"  grew  directly  out  of  the  events  of  the 
day  or  the  immediate  experience  of  the  poet.  "  Lochiel's  Warn- 
ing" embodies  a  traditionary  vein  of  local  feeling  derived  from 
the  land  of  his  nativity;  the  "  Exile  of  Erin"  consecrates  the 
woes  of  a  poor  fellow  with  whom  he  sympathized  on  the  banks  of 
the  Elbe;  the  ''Beech  Tree's  Petition"  was  suggested  by  an 
interview  with  two  ladies  in  the  garden  where  it  grew;  the 
"Lines  on  a  Scene  in  Bavaria"  are  a  literal  transcript  from 
memory;  "  Ye  Mariners  of  England"  expresses  feelings  awak- 
ened by  the  poet's  own  escape  from  a  privateer.  It  is  a  singular 
coincidence  that  the  draft  of  this  famous  naval  ode,  which  was 
found  among  his  papers,  was  seized,  on  his  return  from  Germany, 
on  the  suspicion  that  his  visit  had  a  treasonable  design.  In  the 
38* 


450  THE    POPULAR    POET. 

freshness  of  youth  he  witnessed  a  battle,  a  retreat,  and  the  field 
upon  which  the  night-camp  of  an  army  was  pitched ;  and  the 
vivid  emotions  thus  induced  he  eloquently  breathed  in  "Hohen- 
linden"  and  the  "Soldier's  Dream."  His  dramatic  tastes  are 
finely  reflected  in  the  address  to  John  Kemble,  and  his  classical 
in  the  ode  to  the  Greeks.  We  also  trace  the  relation  between  the 
very  nature  of  the  man  and  whatever  appealed  to  the  sense  of  the 
heroic  or  the  beautiful  in  his  letters.  The  State  Trials  excited 
his  deepest  youthful  sympathy.  It  is  natural  that  to  him  the 
memorable  experiences  of  life  were  such  incidents  as  to  hear  Neu- 
komm  play  the  organ,  and  to  stand  with  Mrs.  Siddons  before  the 
Apollo  Belvidere.  The  "Turkish  Lady"  was  written  while  his 
mind  was  full  of  a  project  to  visit  the  East ;  and  his  subsequent 
intention  of  joining  his  brother  in  America,  with  whom  he  kept 
up  a  regular  correspondence,  accounts  for  his  choice  of  "  The 
Valley  of  Wyoming  "  as  the  scene  of  Gertrude. 

A  critic^'^Rio^e  taste  and  organization  fit  him  to  seize  upon  the 
vital  spirit  of  works  of  genius,  says  that  in  this  poem  there  is 
"  the  best  got-up  bridal  "  in  the  whole  range  of  English  poetry. 
The  zest  and  truthful  beauty  of  the  description  is  drawn  from  the 
bard's  own  experience  of  the  conjugal  sentiment.  His  biographer 
describes  Miss  Sinclair,  who  became  his  wife,  as  one  of  those 
women  who  unite  great  vivacity  of  temperament  with  a  latent 
tenderness  and  melancholy  —  the  very  being  to  captivate  perma- 
nently a  man  at  once  ardent  and  tasteful,  like  Campbell. 

Even  his  defects  point  to  the  same  impressible  temper.  Quickly 
aroused  to  anger,  of  which  several  curious  instances  occur  in  his 
memoirs,  he  as  quickly  yielded  to  the  reaction  of  generous  and 
candid  feeling.  The  transition  was  as  childlike  as  it  was  sincere, 
and  in  perfect  accordance  with  the  poetical  character.  The  same 
is  true  of  his  alternate  relish  of  severe  intellectual  labor  and  the 
most  luxurious  self-indulgence.  Campbell  by  nature  was  a  patriot 
and  a  philanthropist,  a  lover  and  a  friend,  an  enthusiast  and  a 
scholar;  impulsive  and  fastidious  at  the  same  time,  generous 
and  vain  by  turns,  with  sensibility  and  culture,  now  fagging  and 
now  soaring;  and,  thus  constituted,  we  may  imagine  the  effect 
upon  him  of  being  doomed  to  write  in  the  prime  of  his  life,  "  My 
son  is  mad,  my  wife  dead,  and  my  harp  unstrung."     Yet,  like 


THOMAS     CAMPBELIr.  451 

nearly  all  the  gifted  men  of  his  age,  he  was  so  singularly  blessed 
with  social  privileges,  that  we  are  forcibly  reminded  of  Scott's 
declaration  that  these  constituted  his  real  obligations  to  literature. 
In  the  course  of  Campbell's  letters,  we  find  him  at  different  periods 
enjoying  the  society,  first  of  Dr.  Burney,  Mrs.  Inchbald,  Dr. 
Gregory,  Dugald  Stewart,  and  the  leading  spirits  of  the  past 
century ;  then  of  Klopstock,  Schlegel,  and  Humboldt ;  and,  on  his 
return  from  his  first  continental  visit,  of  Currie,  Roscoe,  Sydney 
Smith,  Mackintosh,  Rogers,  and  the  habitues  of  Holland  House 
in  its  palmy  days ;  while  Madame  de  Stael,  jMrs.  Siddons,  Scott, 
and  the  last  bright  galaxy  of  British  writers,  were  familiar  asso- 
ciates. 

In  regard  to  the  form  of  Campbell's  poetry,  we  are  immediately 
struck  with  his  delicate  and  true  feeling  for  the  harmony  of  lan- 
guage. He  knew  instinctively  how  to  follow  Pope's  rule,  and 
cause  the  sound  to  be  an. echo  to  the  sense.  When  a  boy  he 
expressed  keen  disappointment  at  not  being  able  to  make  a  lady 
appreciate  the  meaning  of  Homer  by  the  sound  of  celebrated  pas- 
sages. We  know  of  few  specimens  of  English  verse  comparable 
to  the  best  of  Campbell's  for  effective  rhythm.  Contrast  the 
spirit-stirring  flow  of  the  song  of  the  Greeks  with  the  organ-like 
cadence  of  "  Hohenlinden,"  or  the  pathetic  melody  of  **  Lord 
Ullin's  Daughter  "  with  the  deep-flowing  emphasis  of  the  "  Battle 
of  the  Baltic."  It  is  remarkable  that  this  fine  musical  adaptation 
belongs  to  all  his  genuine  pieces  —  we  mean  those  naturally  in- 
spired ;  while  his  muse  is  never  whipped  into  service,  as  in  Glencoe 
and  Theodric,  without  betraying  the  fact  in  her  stifi*  or  wayward 
movement.     This  only  proves  how  real  a  poet  Campbell  was. 

We  demur,  however,  to  the  opinion  frequently  advanced  that 
his  poetic  fire  died  out  long  before  his  life.  One  of  his  noblest 
compositions,  lofty  and  inspiring  in  sentiment,  and  grandly  musi- 
cal in  rhythm,  is  "  Hallowed  Ground,"  and  one  of  his  most 
striking  pieces,  "  The  Last  Man;"  both  of  which  were  late  pro- 
ductions. 

The  personality  so  characteristic  of  genuine  feeling  is  not  only 
evident  in  the  obvious  inspiration,  but  in  the  verbal  execution  of 
his  conceptions.  Thus  he  constantly  impersonates  insensible 
objects.     It  is  the  bugles  that  sing  truce,  and  he  that  lays  him- 


452  THE     POPULAR     POET. 

self  beneath  the  willow ;  the  glow  of  evening  is  like,  not  the 
cheek  and  brow  of  woman,  but  of  her  we  love.  Throughout  the 
intensity  of  the  feeling  personifies  the  object  described,  and  gives 
human  attributes  to  inanimate  things,  exactly  as  in  the  artless 
language  of  infancy  and  the  oratory  of  an  uncivilized  people. 
Such  is  the  instinct  of  nature ;  it  is  what  separates  verse  from 
prose,  the  diction  of  fancy  and  emotion  from  that  of  afifaira  and 
science. 

If  any  one  is  preeminently  entitled  to  the  name  of  poet,  in  its 
most  obvious  sense,  it  is  he  who  so  emphatically  represents  in 
verse  a  natural  sentiment  that  his  expression  of  it  is  seized  upon 
by  the  common  voice,  and  becomes  its  popular  utterance.  This 
direct,  sympathetic,  intelligent,  and  recognized  phase  of  the  art 
has  been  the  most  significant  and  effective,  from  the  days  of  Job 
and  Homer  to  those  of  Tasso  and  Campbell.  The  vivid  rhetorical 
embodiment  of  a  genuine  feeling  prevalent  at  the  time,  or  charac- 
teristic of  humanity,  is  the  most  obvious  and  the  most  natural 
province  of  the  bard.  The  ballads  of  antiquity,  the  troubadour 
songs,  and  the  primitive  national  lyric,  evince  how  instinctive  is 
this  development  of  poetry.  The  philosophic  combinations  of  the 
drama,  the  descriptive  traits  of  the  pastoral,  and  the  formal  range 
of  the  epic,  are  results  of  subsequent  culture  and  more  premedi- 
tated skill.  This  is  also  true  of  the  refinements  of  sentiment,  the 
mystical  fancies,  and  the  vague  expression,  which  German  litera- 
ture, and  the  influence  of  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  and  Coleridge, 
have  grafted  upon  modern  English  verse. 

If  we  were  to  adopt  a  vernacular  poet  from  the  brilliant  con- 
stellation of  the  last  and  present  century,  as  representing  legiti- 
mately natural  and  popular  feeling  with  true  lyric  energy,  such 
as  finds  inevitable  response  and  needs  no  advocacy  or  criticism  to 
uphold  or  elucidate  it,  we  should  name  Campbell.  He  wrote 
from  the  intensity  of  his  own  sympathies  with  freedom,  truth,  and 
love  ;  his  expression,  therefore,  is  truly  poetic  in  its  spirit ;  while 
in  rhetorical  finish  and  aptness  he  had  the  very  best  culture, 
that  of  Greek  literature.  Thus  simply  furnished  with  inspiration 
and  with  a  style,  both  derived  from  the  most  genuine  sources, 
the  one  from  nature  and  the  other  from  the  highest  art,  he  gave 
melodious  and  vigorous  utterance,  not  to  a  peculiar  vein  of  imag- 


THOMAS      CAMPBELL.  453 

ination,  like  Shellej,  nor  a  mystical  attachment  to  nature,  like 
Wordsworth,  nor  an  egotistic  personality,  like  Byron ;  but  to  a 
love  of  freedom  and  truth  which  political  events  had  caused  to 
glow  with  unwonted  fervor  in  the  bosoms  of  his  noblest  contempo- 
raries, and  to  the  native  sentiment  of  domestic  and  social  life, 
rendered  more  dear  and  sacred  by  their  recent  unhallowed  dese- 
cration. It  was  not  by  ingenuity,  egotism,  or  artifice,  that  ho 
thus  chanted,  but  honestly,  earnestly,  from  the  impulse  of  youth- 
ful ardor  and  tenderness  moulded  by  scholarship. 

It  is  now  the  fashion  to  relish  verse  more  intricate,  sentiment 
less  defined,  ideas  of  a  metaphysical  cast,  and  a  rhythm  less 
modulated  by  simple  and  grand  cadences;  yet  to  a  manly  intellect, 
to  a  heart  yet  alive  with  fresh,  brave,  unperverted  instincts,  the 
intelligible,  glowing,  and  noble  tone  of  Campbeirs  verse  is  yet 
fraught  with  cheerful  augury.  It  has  outlived,  in  current  litera- 
ture, and  in  individual  remembrance,  the  diffuse  metrical  tales  of 
Scott  and  Southcy;  finds  a  more  prolonged  response,  from  its 
general  adaptation,  than  the  ever-recurring  key-note  of  Byron ; 
and  lingers  on  the  lips  and  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  only  muse 
over  the  elaborate  pages  of  tliose  minstrels  whose  golden  ore  is 
either  beaten  out  to  intangible  thinness,  or  largely  mixed  with 
the  alloy  of  less  precious  metal.  Indeed,  notliing  evinces  a  greater 
Tvant  of  just  appreciation  in  regard  to  the  art  or  gift  of  poetry, 
than  the  frequent  complaints  of  such  a  poet  as  Campbell  because 
of  the  limited  quantity  of  his  verse.  It  would  be  as  rational  to 
expect  the  height  of  animal  spirits,  the  exquisite  sensation  of  con- 
valescence, the  rapture  of  an  exalted  mood,  the  perfect  content 
of  gratified  love,  the  tension  of  profound  thought,  or  any  other 
state,  the  very  law  of  which  is  rarity,  to  become  permanent. 
Campbell's  best  verse  was  born  of  emotion,  not  from  idle  reverie 
or  verbal  experiment ;  that  emotion  was  heroic  or  tender,  sympa- 
thetic or  devotional  —  the  exception  to  the  every-day,  the  com- 
mon-place, and  the  mechanical ;  accordingly,  in  its  very  nature, 
it  was  '-like  angels'  visits,"  and  no  more  to  be  summoned  at  will 
than  the  glow  of  aiFection  or  the  spirit  of  prayer. 

That  idleness  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  want  of  productiveness 
of  his  muse,  so  absurdly  insisted  on,  during  his  life,  is  evident 
from  his  letters.     He  was  always  busy ;  but  unfortunately  for 


454  THE    POPULAR     POET. 

for  the  most  part,  in  tasks  of  literary  drudgery  undertaken  for 
subsistence ;  and  deserves  laudation  instead  of  censure,  for,  having 
respected  the  divine  art,  he  loved,  too  much  to  degrade  it  into 
the  service  of  hackneyed  necessity.  He  was  in  fact  a  singularly 
industrious  man ;  in  his  youth,  an  assiduous  student  while  per- 
forming the  duties  of  tutor,  clerk,  and  compiler ;  and,  in  manhood 
and  age,  always  engaged  upon  some  bookseller's  undertaking, 
now  making  an  abridgment  and  now  a  translation ;  at  one  time 
the  editor  of  a  magazine,  and,  at  another,  of  a  collection  of  the 
English  poets ;  now  writing  notes  for  a  classic,  and  now  para- 
graphs for  a  journal,  lectures  for  the  Glasgow  University,  state 
papers  for  Lord  Minto,  the  biography  of  Mrs.  Siddons  or  Petrarch, 
letters  from  Algiers,  —  whatever,  in  short,  oflfered  in  the  way  of 
literary  work,  that  would  give  him  bread.  His  correspondence 
lets  us  into  the  secret  of  his  unostentatious  and  patient  labor,  his 
constant  projects,  the  suggestions  of  others,  and  the  encroach- 
ments of  ungenial  employment  upon  his  sensitive  organization. 

One  cannot  but  honor  the  kindly  and  philosophic  manner  in 
which  he  speaks  of  his  disappointments  in  these  familiar  letters ; 
and  rejoice  to  perceive  that  the  feelings  which  inspired  his  memo- 
rable lines  consoled  him  under  all  reverses,  so  that  the  moment 
he  was  in  contact  with  the  attractions  of  nature,  friendship,  and 
domestic  peace,  joy  revived  within  him.  The  genuineness  of  his 
poetic  impulse  is  thus  indicated  by  the  tenor  of  his  life.  Instead 
of  lazily  reposing  on  laurels  early  won,  he  was  eminently  true  to 
the  faith  and  independence  which  make  beautiful  the  dreams  of 
his  youth,  —  devoted  to  his  kindred  and  friends  with  self-denying 
generosity,  sympathizing,  to  the  last,  in  the  cause  of  freedom, 
cognizant,  everywhere  and  always,  of  the  intrinsic  worth  of  the 
primal  sentiments  whose  beauty  he  so  fondly  sung,  and  never 
forgetful  of  the  duty  and  the  privileges  of  amity,  courage,  and 
fame.  Such  is  the  evidence  of  the  unstudied  epistles  collected  by 
Dr.  Beattie,  the  spontaneous  record  of  his  occupations,  opinions, 
and  feelings,  throughout  life.  They  are  consistent,  and  worthy 
both  of  the  man  and  the  poet.  They  exhibit  a  career  divided 
between  books  and  journeys  —  each  nourishing  his  mind ;  an  epi- 
sode of  domestic  happiness  which  realizes  all  that  good  sense 
would  advocate  and  romance  glorify, — intervals  of  great  physical 


THOMAS     CAMPBELL.  455 

suffering,  melancholy  bereavements,  and  cheerless  toil,  ever  and 
anon  redeemed  by  delightful  social  intercourse,  deserved  honors, 
and  felicitous  moods.  The  death  of  his  wife,  the  idiocy  of  his 
only  son,  the  failure  of  his  own  health,  his  homeless  life  in  Lon- 
don, and  his  death  in  forlorn  exile, —  these,  and  some  of  the 
natural  consequences  of  such  vicissitudes,  throw  a  gloom  over 
portions  of  his  chequered  life  ;  but  through  them  and  beyond,  now 
that  they  are  passed,  the  poet  rises  benignly  in  the  integrity  of 
his  sentiments  and  the  beauty  of  his  art. 


THE  AMERICAN  PHILOSOPHER. 

BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN. 


The  pervading  trait  of  Franklin's  character  was  allegiance  to 
the  practical.  Few  devotees  of  knowledge  have  so  consistently 
manifested  this  instinct,  the  more  remarkable  because  united  to 
speculative  tendencies  which  quickened  his  intelligence  and  occu- 
pied his  leisure  to  the  very  close  of  his  existence.  For  the  intan- 
gible aims  of  the  metaphysician,  the  vagaries  of  the  imaginative, 
the  "airy  bubble  reputation,"  he  exhibited  no  concern;  but  the 
application  of  truth  to  the  facts  of  nature  and  of  life,  the  discov- 
ery of  material  laws  and  their  conversion  to  human  welfare,  the 
actual  influence  of  morals,  economy,  politics,  and  education,  upon 
civil  society  and  individual  development,  were  problems  upon 
which  he  never  failed  to  think,  read,  talk,  write,  and  experiment. 
A  striking  evidence  of  this  was  his  youthful  disdain  of  the  muses 
(although  he  wrote  quite  a  respectable  ballad  at  the  age  of 
twelve),  because  'verse-makers  generally  make  beggars;"  and 
his  preference,  in  maturity,  for  that  circle  abroad  where  the 
*' understanding"  found  such  exclusive  recognition  and  utter- 
ance: "I  believe  Scotland,"  he  wrote  to  Lord  Kaimes,  "would 
be  the  country  I  should  choose  to  spend  my  days  in."  Accord- 
ingly the  history  of  the  man  is  that  of  some  of  the  most  pregnant 
of  great  external  interests ;  and  his  entire  devotion  to  them,  to 
the  exclusion  of  more  ideal,  vague,  and  purely  intellectual  sub- 
jects, arose  chiefly  from  his  peculiar  mental  organization,  and 
also,  in  no  small  degree,  from  the  transition  period  in  government, 


B  E  N  J  A  ]Sx  I  N     FRANKLIN.  457 

society,  and  popular  intelligence,  during  which  he  lived.  He  was 
so  indifferent  to  literary  fame  that  the  indefatigable  editor  *  of 
his  works  informs  us  that  some  of  his  most  characteristic  writings 
were  never  intended  for  the  press,  very  few  were  published  under 
his  own  supervision,  and  nearly  all  came  forth  anonymously. 
His  object,  like  Swift's,  was  immediate  effect.  In  youth  he  stud- 
ied the  art  of  pei*spicuous  expression  in  order  to  act  with  facility 
upon  the  minds  of  others  ;  but  it  w^as  in  order  to  disseminate  use- 
ful knowledge,  to  enlarge  the  boundaries  of  science,  to  advocate 
political  reform,  and  direct  into  expedient  channels  the  enterprise, 
speculation,  and  party  zeal  of  his  day,  rather  than  to  build  him- 
self a  monument  in  the  library,  or  a  shrine  in  household  lore. 
What  he  achieved  as  a  writer  was  incidental,  not  premeditated ; 
for  he  valued  the  pen  as  he  did  time,  money,  and  experience,  for 
its  direct  tendency  to  diffuse  knowledge,  comfort,  utility,  and  set- 
tled principles  of  inference  and  action.  The  most  deliberate  of 
his  writings,  that  is,  the  one  which  seems  inspired  least  by  a  defi- 
nite purpose  and  most  by  the  anticipated  pleasure  of  the  under- 
taking, is  his  famous  autobiography ;  and  even  in  this  it  is  evident 
that  the  luxury  of  reminiscences  was  in  abeyance  to  the  desire  of 
imparting,  and  especially  to  the  young,  the  benefit  of  his  own 
experience.  For  many  years,  indeed,  the  pen  of  Franklin  was 
too  variously  employed,  and  dedicated  too  constantly  to  the 
advancement  of  immediate  national  interests,  to  admit  of  any 
well-considered,  elaborate,  and  finished  work.  What  his  written 
and  spoken  word,  however,  thus  lost  in  permanent  value,  it 
gained  in  vigor  and  in  direct  utility.  If  we  glance  at  the  sub- 
jects and  occasions  of  his  tracts,  letters,  reports,  paragraphs,  and 
essays,  we  shall  find  they  embrace  the  whole  circle  of  questions 
important  to  his  country  and  his  age,  —  morals,  the  economy  of 
life,  commerce,  finance,  history,  and  politics.  We  find  in  them 
the  germs  of  ideas  now  triumphant;  of  principles,  through  his 
advocacy,  in  no  small  degree,  since  embodied  in  action,  and 
brought  to  grand  practical  results.  A  parable  wins  men  to  tol- 
eration; a  maxim  guides  them  to  frugality;'  a  comprehensive 
argument  initiates  the  plan  of  that  federal  union  which  has  proved 


*  Jared  Sparks,  D.D.,  LL.D. 
39 


458  THE    AMERICAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

the  key-stone  of  our  national  prosperity ;  the  farmer  or  the  mar- 
iner, consulting  Poor  Richard's  Almanac  to  learn  the  fluctuation 
of  weather  or  tide,  finds,  beside  these  chronicles  of  Nature's  mys- 
teries, advice  which  puts  him  unconsciously  on  the  track  of  provi- 
dent habits,  temperance,  and  contentment ;  the  patriot  in  the  field 
is  cheered  by  the  wisdom  of  the  judge  in  council ;  the  shipwright, 
the  horticulturalist,  the  printer,  the  lowly  aspirant  for  self-im- 
provement, as  well  as  the  statesman  and  the  philosopher,  find 
wisdom  and  encouragement  from  his  "  words  spoken  in  season ;  " 
in  the  prudent  household  his  name  is  associated  with  the  invalua- 
ble heating- apparatus  that  saves  their  fuel  and  increases  the 
genial  warmth  of  the  evening  fireside ;  in  the  disconsolate  crises 
of  war  his  foreign  diplomacy  and  judicious  hints  warm  the  heart 
of  valor  with  the  prescience  of  success ;  in  the  land  of  his  coun- 
try's enemies,  his  clear  statement  of  grievances  and  his  intrepid 
reproof  of  injustice  conciliate  the  nobler  spirits  there,  and  vindi- 
cate the  leaders  at  home ;  the  encroachments  of  savage  tribes  are 
checked,  the  policy  of  colonial  rule  softened,  the  comforts  of 
domestic  life  enhanced,  the  resources  of  the  mind  elicited,  and,  in 
a  word,  the  basis  of  national  prosperity  laid  on  the  eternal  founda- 
tion of  popular  enlightenment,  self-reliance,  and  foresight,  by  the 
oracles  of  the  American  philosopher,  thus  casually  uttered  and 
incidentally  proclaimed. 

But  while  official  duty  and  patriotism  gave  Franklin  occasion 
to  propagate  and  actualize  so  many  useful  and  requisite  princi- 
ples, —  to  become  the  thinker  and  advocate,  the  incarnated 
common-sense  of  his  country  and  his  time,  —  there  was  another 
sphere  of  mental  activity,  another  range  of  sagacious  enterprise, 
in  which  he  expatiated  with  kindred  success.  This  was  the 
domain  of  science.  When  he  was  not  required  to  apply  reflection 
to  conduct,  and  to  deal  with  a  great  climax  in  the  political  world, 
he  turned  with  alacrity  to  that  of  natural  philosophy.  This  was 
his  congenial  element.  "  I  have  got  my  niche,"  he  writes,  exult- 
ingly,  "  after  having  been  kept  out  of  it  for  twenty-four  years  by 
foreign  appointments."  He  was,  by  instinct,  a  philosopher  ;  one 
whom  Bacon  would  have  hailed  as  a  disciple,  and  to  whom  Sir 
Kenelm  Digby  would  have  delighted  to  unfold  the  merits  of  the 
"  sympathetic  powder,"  Sir  Thomas  Browne  to  lament  "  vulgar 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN.  459 

errors,"  and  Bishop  Berkeley  to  explain  the  law  of  optics  and  the 
merits  of  tar- water.  Lord  Brougham  expresses  the  conviction 
that  he  would  have  promulgated  the  inductive  philosophy  had  not 
Bacon  anticipated  him. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  provin- 
cial town,  built  upon  three  hills  on  the  coast  of  Massachusetts,  was 
an  excellent  place  for  the  education  of  circumstances.  Among  its 
inhabitants  were  the  most  enlightened  of  the  English  emigrants, 
who  brought  with  them  the  industrious  habits,  the  domestic  dis- 
cipline, the  taste  for  reading,  and  the  love  of  thrift  and  enterprise, 
which  induce  and  sustain  commercial  prosperity  and  municipal 
order.  Questions  of  church  and  state,  the  conservatism  of  an 
old  and  the  innovations  of  a  new  country,  —  the  meeting-house, 
the  newspaper,  the  fireside,  and  the  school-room,  —  were  their 
elements  of  civilization.  The  arts  of  luxury,  the  venerable  in 
architecture,  and  the  beautiful  in  decoration,  had  not  yet  super- 
seded more  stringent  provisions  for  utility  and  comfort.  The  back 
settlements  of  the  continent  were  exposed  to  savage  invasion. 
The  mother  country,  with  her  rich  historical  associations,  her 
time-hallowed  precedents,  her  glorious  trophies  of  literature,  her 
royal  prerogatives,  and  her  ancestral  graves,  was  to  the  colonists 
the  grand  and  mellow  perspective  of  life,  to  which  their  New 
England  dwellings  on  those  bleak  hill-sides,  and  beside  that  rock- 
bound  bay,  were  the  rude  foreground,  where  they  were  to  realize 
great  principles  of  religion  and  government,  achieve  individual 
prosperity,  and  eventually  battle  manfully  for  freedom  and  truth. 
Meanwhile  honest  subsistence,  religious  zeal,  and  the  cause  of 
education,  employed  their  energies.  Months  of  dreary  winter, 
when  roofs  were  white  with  snow  and  the  harbor  a  sheet  of  ice, 
alternated  with  a  brief  season  of  heat  more  than  tempered  by  a 
keen  breeze  from  the  east ;  so  that  only  the  hardy  maize  and 
tough  grass  yielded  reliable  crops.  Orchards  were  their  only 
vineyards,  a  good  sermon  their  most  available  entertainment,  and 
Fast  and  Thanksgiving  days  their  festivals.  The  great  event  of 
the  month  was  an  arrival  from  England  —  usually  a  weather- 
beaten  craft,  often  ten  weeks  on  the  voyage ;  and  her  epitome  of 
London  news,  the  colonial  agent  she  brought,  the  original  copies 
of  Pope's  verses,  Addison's  Essay,  or  De  Foe's  novel,  the  new 


460  THE    AMERICAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

fashion  for  the  "gude  dame"  and  her  daughters,  and  the  watch 
or  shoe-buckles  for  her  husband,  made  themes  for  the  street  and 
the  hearthstone  for  many  days.  The  isolation  of  such  a  com- 
munity, the  fact  that  nonconformity  had  driven  their  fathers 
thither,  the  providence  and  frugality  incident  to  the  climate,  the 
demand  for  foresight  and  self-denial,  the  force  of  public  opinion, 
the  distinction  yielded  to  character,  the  comparative  dearth  of 
temptation,  and  the  rigorous  observance  of  family,  church,  and 
municipal  discipline,  though  unfavorable  to  the  more  graceful  and 
tender,  moulded  the  sterner  elements  of  humanity  into  unusual 
rectitude  of  purpose.  To  the  expanded  intellect  and  free  aspira- 
tions of  youth,  there  might  be  too  much  of  the  Puritan  inflexi- 
bility and  narrowness  in  such  an  environment ;  but,  as  a  means 
of  acquiring  the  habit  of  self-dependence  and  self-control, —  the 
vestibule  of  more  enlarged  and  spontaneous  development, — we 
cannot  but  recognize  its  inestimable  value. 

The  early  circumstances,  physical  and  moral,  of  men  who  leave 
distinct  and  permanent  influences  behind  them,  ai-e  more  sig- 
nificant than  we  imagiije.  It  was  no  accidental  coincidence  that 
reared  the  most  fervent  of  false  prophets  in  the  arid  vales  of 
Arabia,  the  greatest  of  religious  reformers  among  the  cold  heights 
of  Germany,  or  the  most  fanatical  of  usurpers  beside  the  monot- 
onous fens  of  Huntingdon.  How  intimate  was  the  connection  of 
the'  civil  strife  in  Tuscany  with  the  shadowy  and  sharp  features 
of  Dante's  muse,  of  the  sunny  lassitude  of  southern  Italy  and 
France  with  the  amorous  melody  of  Petrarch's  numbers,  of  the 
fiery  passions  and  stern  hardihood  of  Corsican  life  with  the  indom- 
itable will  of  Napoleon  !  And  who  that  knows  New  England,  — 
even  as  modified  by  a  foreign  population,  by  the  facilities  of 
modern  intercoui-se,  and  the  liberality  of  an  advanced  civilization, 
—  does  not  recognize,  in  the  sagacity,  prudence,  hardihood,  love 
of  knowledge,  industry,  practical  consistency,  and  wisdom  of 
Frankin,  the  vigorous  training  of  that  Spartan  mother,  —  the 
self-reliant  discipline  of  that  hard  soil  and  rigid  climate  ? 

If  the  prime  of  Franklin's  life  was  the  critical  era  of  our 
national  fortunes,  it  was  no  less  a  period  of  literary  and  political 
transition  in  Great  Britain.  It  was  the  epoch  when  History 
assumed  a  more  philosophical  development  under  the  thoughtful 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN,  461 

pen  of  Hume,  v^hen  sentiment  and  humor  grew  bold  and  vagrant 
in  expression  through  Sterne,  when  the  greatest  orator  of  the  age 
recorded  its  events  in  the  Annual  Register,  when  humane  letters 
rose  in  public  esteem  by  virtue  of  Goldsmith's  graceful  style, 
when  Garrick  made  the  stage  illustrious,  when  Methodism  began 
its  work,  when  the  seer  of  Stockholm  proclaimed  spiritual  science, 
and  the  bard  of  Olney  sang  the  pleasures  of  rural  and  domestic 
life.  Yet  how  diverse  from  them  all  was  the  renown  their  Amer- 
ican contemporary  won,  and  the  method  of  its  acquisition  !  It  is 
the  clear  vista  to  a  humble  origin,  and  the  gradual  rise  from  the 
condition  of  a  poor  mechanic  to  that  of  a  statesman  and  philoso- 
pher, opened  by  Franklin  in  his  artless  memoir  of  himself,  which 
gave  at  once  individuality  and  universality  to  his  fame.  AVho 
can  estimate  the  vast  encouragement  derived  by  the  lowliest 
seeker  for  knowledge  and  social  elevation  from  such  a  minute 
chait  of  life,  frankly  revealing  every  stage  of  poverty,  scepticism, 
obscure  toil,  dissipation,  on  the  one  side,  —  and  manly  resolution, 
indefatigable  industry,  frugal  self-denial,  patient  study,  honest 
and  intelligent  conviction,  through,  and  by  means  of  which,  the 
fugitive  printer's  boy,  with  no  library  but  an  odd  volume  of  the 
Spectator  and  an  Essay  of  De  Foe's,  translations  of  Plutarch 
and  Xenophon,  the  treatises  of  Shaftesbury  and  Locke,  an  Eng- 
lish Grammar  and  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  trained  himself  to 
observe,  to  write,  and  to  think,  while  earning  often  a  precarious 
subsistence  in  Philadelphia  and  London  by  type-setting  and  pen- 
work?  The  play-house  alternating  with  the  club  made  up  of 
vagabonds  and  steady  fellows,  both  '-lovers  of  reading,"  a  swim- 
ming-match and  experiments  in  diet,  conversation  with  "inge- 
nious acquaintances,'-  hard  work,  constant  observation,  and  the 
habit  of  "improving  by  experience,"  exhibit  the  youth  as  he 
develops  into  the  man,  who,  with  remorse  for  the  "errata"  in 
his  life,  goes  on  to  reveal  the  process,  available  to  all  with  self- 
control  ajid  understanding,  whereby  from  a  ballad-hawker  and 
printer  he  became  a  shop-keeper,  then  a  journalist,  and  subse- 
quently launched  into  an  unprecedented  career  of  public  useful- 
ness and  honor.  ^ 

The  example  of  Franklin  is  invaluable  as  a  triumph  of  self- 
culture.     His  name  was  not  only  an  honorable  passport  among 
39* 


462  THE    AMERICAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

the  learned,  but  an  endeared  watchword  to  the  humble.  The 
lowliest  laborer  of  the  undistinguished  multitude  claims  a  part  in 
his  fame,  as  well  as  the  great  discoverer  or  the  regal  patron. 
Never  dawned  a  self-reliant  character  more  opportunely  on  the 
world  ;  at  home,  illustrating  to  a  new  country  what  perseverance, 
honesty,  observation,  and  wisdom,  can  effect  with  the  most  limited 
resources  ;  abroad,  proving  to  an  ancient  regime  how  independent 
a  genuine  man  may  be  of  courts,  academies,  and  luxury ;  —  both 
the  most  requisite  lessons  for  which  humanity  thirsted,  and  both 
enforced  with  an  attractive  candor,  a  gracious  consistency,  a  mod- 
est resolution,  which  no  argument  could  attain,  and  no  rhetoric 
enhance. 

Let  us  glance  at  the  variety  of  subjects,  identified  with  human 
welfare  and  apart  from  political  interests,  which,  from  first  to  last, 
employed  his  mind,  and  elicited  either  sagacious  conjectures  or 
positive  suggestions ;  —  the  causes  of  earthquakes  and  the  art 
of  printing,  the  circulation  of  the  blood  and  the  cultivation  of 
grasses,  theories  of  light  and  the  treatment  of  fevers,  the  manu- 
facture of  salt  by  evaporation  and  the  arrangement  of  musical 
glasses,  a  remedy  for  smoky  chimneys  and  the  tendency  of 
rivers  to  the  sea,  husbandry  and  fireplaces,  magnetism  and 
water-spouts,  the  effect  of  oil  on  water,  meteorology,  the  aurora 
borealis,  toads,  balloons,  thermometers,  and  ventilation.  He 
searches  out  the  mossy  inscriptions  on  the  gravestones  of  his 
ancestors  in  Northamptonshire,  and  acquires  proficiency  in  a  for- 
eign language  after  sixty.  He  is  one  of  a  commission  to  examine 
the  claims  of  Mcsmer's  theory  in  France,  and  to  protect  St. 
Paul's  from  lightning  in  London.  He  could  not  watch  a  shoot- 
ing star,  glance  at  a  metallic  crystal,  behold  the  flush  of  sunset 
clouds  or  the  hectic  on  an  invalid's  cheek,  note  the  ebb  of  the 
tide  or  the  greeting  of  the  wind,  examine  a  proposed  law  of 
state  or  a  vegetable  product  of  the  earth,  hear  a  beetle  hum  or 
feel  a  quivering  pulse,  gaze  on  a  petrifaction  or  a  type,  converse 
with  a  stranger  or  meet  a  committee,  draft  a  plan  or  look  at  a 
machine,  without  feeling  the  plea  of  causality,  striving  to  trace 
the  origin  of  effects,  and  to  infer  a  law  applicable  to  the  wants  of 
his  ra^e,  or  the  elucidation  of  truth.  No  experiment  was  too 
insignificant  for  his  philosophy,  no  task  too  humble  for  his  pat- 


BENJAMIN     FRANKLIN.  468 

riotism.  Open  bis  correspondence  at  random ;  here  you  find 
precautionary  hints  for  a  voyage,  there  a  sketch  of  an  English 
school ;  now  observations  on  maize,  and  again  remarks  on  paper 
currency ;  to-day  he  draws  up  a  plan  of  union  for  the  colonies, 
to-morrow  a  dialogue  with  the  Gout ;  at  one  time  he  invents  a 
letter  from  China,  and  at  another  counsels  the  settler  beyond  the 
Alleghanies  ;  commerce  one  moment,  and  a  Je?^  (T esprit  the  next; 
advice  to  a  Yankee  tradesman,  and  a  bagatelle  for  a  Parisian  lady, 
seem  equally  genial  themes ;  a  state  paper  and  a  proverb,  allegory 
and  statistics,  the  way  to  save  money  and  the  way  to  form  a 
government,  an  article  for  the  "Busy  Body,"  a  fable  for  the 
Almanac,  and  an  epitaph  for  himself,  —  health,  finance,  natural 
history,  the  story  of  "  The  Whistle,"  — a  theory  of  water-spouts, 
and  "  Cool  Thoughts  on  Public  Affairs,"  alternately  occupy  his 
pen;  and  to  determine  how  many  valuable  precedents  were  estab- 
lished, what  useful  principles  were  realized,  and  what  impulse 
was  given  to  individual  minds  and  to  social  progress  by  his 
enlightened  activity,  were  as  hopeless  a  task  as  to  define  the 
respective  influence  of  the  elements  in  fructification.  He  be- 
nignly and  opportunely  scattered  the  seeds  of  popular  knowledge 
and  of  experimental  science  ;  they  took  root  in  the  virgin  soil  of 
a  new  civilization  ;  and  the  tiller  of  the  earth,  the  reader  of  the 
newspaper,  the  frugal  housewife,  the  public-spirited  citizen,  the 
aspiring  mechanic,  the  honest  tradesman,  the  legislator,  and  man 
of  science,  —  the  worker,  thinker,  companion,  writer,  the  baffled 
and  the  novice,  the  adventurous  and  the  truth-seeking  of  Amer- 
ica, caught  gleams  of  wisdom,  warnings  of  prudence,  perceptions 
of  law,  moral  and  physical,  from  Franklin,  which  gave  them  a 
clue  to  prosperity,  and  a  motive  to  culture. 

Like  all  resolute  intelligences  thus  spontaneously  breasting  the 
vast  ocean  of  truth,  vigilant  for  discovery,  and  intent  upon  deduc- 
tion, his  earnest  confidence  and  patient  search  were  rewarded  by 
a  signal  triumph.  Philosophy,  thus  loyally  wooed,  smiled  upon 
her  votary ;  and  nature,  ever  indulgent  to  the  heart  that  loves 
her,  whether  with  scientific  insight  or  poetic  enthusiasm,  opened 
one  arcana  to  his  vision.  The  history  of  Franklin's  electrical 
experiments  and  discoveries  is  one  of  the  most  attractive,  beauti- 
ful, and  pregnant  episodes  in  modern  science.     The  grand  sim- 


464  THE    AMERICAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

plicitj  of  his  theory,  the  familiar  apparatus  by  which  it  was 
tested,  the  accuracy  of  his  foresight,  and  the  unpretending  spirit 
with  which  he  received  the  fame  incident  to  so  great  a  result, 
form  together  one  of  those  memorable  instances  of  the  conquest 
of  mind  over  matter,  of  human  intelligence  over  the  secret  facts 
of  nature,  which  add  the  cognizance  of  new  laws  to  the  domain 
of  knowledge,  and  brighter  names  to  the  catalogue  of  her  immor- 
tal disciples.  However  temporary  in  their  prestige^  or  limited 
in  their  absolute  use,  may  be  the  other  fruits  of  his  studies, 
Electricity  is  identified  with  Frankli^.  It  is  the  common  destiny 
of  scientific  discoverers  to  be  forgotten  in  the  very  progress  they 
initiate  ;  the  pioneer  is  superseded  in  his  march  by  the  advanced 
guard,  and  what  is  a  brilliant  novelty  to-day  becomes  a  familiar 
truth  to-morrow.  The  modem  chemist  forgets  the  alchemist, 
who,  amid  his  illusive  researches,  brought  to  light  some  of  the 
very  principles  that  subserve  later  and  more  useful  inquiries. 
The  astronomer,  as  he  sees,  through  a  telescope  undreamed  of  by 
the  Chaldeans,  a  new  planet  wheel  into  the  fields  of  vision, 
bestows  no  thought  upon  the  isolated  and  self-denying  astrolo- 
ger, who,  in  the  fanciful  task  of  casting  nativities,  systematized 
the  first  rude  alphabet  of  the  stars,  which  modern  science  has 
elaborated  into  that  "  poetry  of  heaven"  whereby  genius  keeps 
vigil,  and  the  trackless  sea  is  navigated  without  perplexity.  But 
it  is  otherwise  with  the  initiation  of  an  absolutely  new  branch  of 
knowledge.  When  Franklin  drew  down  the  lightning,  and  iden- 
tified it  with  electricity,  he  forever  allied  his  name  to  a  subtle 
element,  whose  every  subsequent  revelation  is  associated  with  the 
kite  and  key,  the  thunder  and  the  conductor,  the  benign  image 
and  endeared  name  of  the  Boston  printer,  the  Philadelphia  sage, 
and  the  American  patriot.  The  vista  his  experiments  opened  has 
never  ceased  to  lead  further  and  deeper  into  the  undiscovered 
mysteries  of  the  universe ;  and,  at  this  moment,  the  element  of 
natural  science  most  prophetic  of  new  wonders  and  subtle  uses 
is  electricity.  The  phenomena  of  consciousness  and  nervous 
sympathy  point  more  and  more  to  an  intimate  relation  between 
the  electric  fluid  and  the  vital  principle.  The  most  inscrutable 
of  material  forces,  it  appears  to  be  the  direct  medium  of  sensa- 
tion, emotion,  and  all  the  modes  of  interaction  between  materia.1 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN.  465 

existences  and  the  embodied  human  soul.  By  it  has  recently  been 
invented  the  most  brilliant  and  powerful  light  yet  obtained.  As 
the  most  intense  agent  for  decomposing  the  latent  affinities  of 
matter,  and  unimagined  forces  of  locomotion  and  intercourse,  its 
wonders^re  but  foreshadowed  in  the  electric  telegraph,  the  appli- 
cation of  magnetism  as  a  motive  power,  and  its  use  as  a  curative 
agent,  and  a  disintegrating  element.  And  it  is  worthy  of  remark 
that  the  magnetic  expression  of  the  human  countenance,  espe- 
cially of  the  eye,  and  the  affinities  of  the  individual  temperament, 
are  graduated  by  the  moral  as  well  as  the  physical  condition,  and 
are  capable  of  apparent  extinction  through  grossly  material  habits 
and  perverted  natural  instincts, —  facts  which  seem  to  confirm  the 
near  relation  of  the  electric  principle  with  life,  emotion,  and 
spiritual  development,  as  exhibited  in  organic  forms.  The  preva- 
lence of  this  unseen  but  ever  vital  principle  in  nature,  in  the 
amber  of  the  torrent's  bed  and  the  fur  of  the  domestic  animal,  in 
the  circumambient  air,  in  our  own  consciousness  of  attraction  and 
repulsion,  of  cheerfulness  and  depression,  in  the  healthy  and  the 
morbid  experiences  of  humanity,  would  seem  clearly  to  indicate 
that  the  sphere,  whose  latent  significance  was  first  revealed  by 
Franklin,  is  limitless  in  its  resources  of  power,  use,  and  beauty. 

His  varied  aptitudes,  offices,  inquiries,  and  discoveries,  secured 
for  him  a  sphere  of  acquaintance  and  friendship  embracing  the 
widest  range  of  human  character,  vocation,  and  renown.  Among 
his  early  intimates  were  three  colonial  governors ;  Godfrey,  the 
inventor  of  the  quadrant;  and  Ralph,  a  writer  of  history  and 
verse.  He  took  counsel  on  national  affiiirs  with  Washington,  the 
Revolutionary  leaders,  and  the  framers  of  the  constitution ;  con- 
fronted the  inimical  scrutiny  of  the  British  ministry  and  parlia- 
ment ;  was  the  messenger  to  Lord  Howe,  after  a  foreign  army  had 
encamped  on  our  shores;  conferred  with  Gates,  Schuyler, 
Adams,  Hancock,  Jay,  Hopkinson,  Morris,  Jefferson,  Livingston, 
and  Quincy ;  corresponded  or  conversed  with  Golden  and  Bar- 
tram,  on  natural  history ;  with  Priestley  and  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  on 
scientific  questions;  with  Hume,  on  mental  philosophy;  with 
(and  on  a  large  diversity  of  subjects)  Paine  and  Cobbett;"  with 
Lafayette  and  the  Count  de  Yergennes,  Foy  and  Mazzei,  Whit- 
field and  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  Lord  Kaimes,  the  Abbe  Morelli, 


466  THE     AMERICAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

and  Dr.  Stiles,  Madame  Brillon  and  Dr.  Robertson,  Voltaire  and 
Houdon,  Darwin,  Lord  Chatham,  Dr.  Fothergill,  D'Alembert, 
David  Hartley,  Diderot,  and  Madame  Helvetius.  From  republi- 
can America  to  aristocratic  France,  at  Philadelphia,  London,  and 
Versailles,  in  the  court  and  the  congress,  the  laboratory  and  the 
saloon,  he  enjoyed  the  best  facilities  and  the  most  intimate  asso- 
ciations. It  is  because  of  his  readiness  and  versatility,  his  self- 
possession  and  independence,  that  in  his  life  and  letters  we  seem 
to  behold,  although  ever  conscious  of  his  identity,  at  one  time  a 
grave  philosopher  and  at  another  a  genial  companion,  a  patriarch 
here  and  a  man  of  pleasure  there ;  the  wary  statesman  to-day 
and  the  playful  humorist  to-morrow, —  ever  active,  cognizant, 
alert,  content,  inventive,  useful,  wise,  cheerful,  self-sustained, 
provident,  far-sighted, —  the  type  of  good  sense  and  urbanity,  of 
thoroughness  and  insight,  of  tact  and  aptness.  Hence,  too,  the 
fecundity  of  anecdote  to  which  his  life  gave  birth.  Nor  was  he 
insensible  to  these  social  privileges  and  considerations,  which,  in 
the  retrospect  of  eminent  lives,  always  seem  the  most  desirable 
of  their  felicities.  "The  regard  and  kindness  I  meet  with,"  he 
writes  to  his  wife  from  London,  "  from  persons  of  worth,  and  the 
conversation  of  ingenious  men,  give  me  no  small  pleasure ;  "  and 
he  adds,  with  that  superiority  to  circumstances  and  tenacity  of 
purpose  so  characteristic :  "  I  am  for  doing  effectually  what 
I  came  about,  and  I  find  it  requires  both  time  and  patience."  He 
elsewhere  speaks  of  society  as  being  his  "  dearest  happiness.'* 
He  tells  us  of  his  youthful  zest  for  improving  association  when  a 
printer's  boy ;  his  image,  costume,  manner,  sayings  and  doings, 
as  a  man  of  society,  are  among  the  traditions  of  the  old  French 
court.*     One  of  the  last  written  descriptions  of  him,  dated  in  his 

*  A  once  popular  print  represents  Franklin  in  homespun,  yam  stockings,  and 
thick  shoes,  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  court,  kissing,  Yankee  fashion,  the  queen, 
and  the  king  crying  "  Encore  !  '*  This  is  an  exaggeration  ;  the  facts  are  stated 
thus  in  Madame  Campan's  Memoirs  of  Marie  Antoinette  : 

*'  Dr.  Franklin  appeared  at  court  in  the  costume  of  an  American  cultivator  ; 
his  hair  plainly  brushed,  without  powder.  His  round  hat  and  plain  coat  of 
brown  cloth  contrasted  strongly  with  the  powdered  coiffures  and  the  bespan- 
gled and  embroidered  coats  of  the  perfumed  courtiers  of  Versailles.  His  simple 
and  novel  yet  dignified  appearance  charmed  the  ladies  of  the  co\irt,  and  many 
were  the  f'etti  given  him,  not  only  for  his  fame  as  a  philosopher,  but  in  acknowl- 


BENJAMIN     FRANKLIN.  46T 

lifetime,  is  that  of  a  benign  and  cheerful  octogenarian,  seated  in 
pleasant  discourse  under  a  mulberrj-tree,  beside  his  dwelling, 
exhibiting  to  his  attached  grandchild  a  two-headed  snake.  In  a 
letter  to  Washington,  written  the  same  year,  he  says  : 

"  For  my  own  personal  ease  I  should  have  died  two  years  ago  ; 
but,  though  those  years  have  been  spent  in  excruciating  pain,  yet 
I  am  pleased  to  have  lived  them,  since  they  have  brought  me  to 
see  our  present  situation.  I  am  now  finishing  my  eighty-fourth 
year,  and,  probably,  with  it,  my  career  in  this  life  ;  but  in  what- 
ever state  of  existence  I  am  placed  hereafter,  if  I  retain  any 
memory  of  what  has  passed  here,  I  shall  with  it  retain  the  esteem, 
respect,  and  affection,  with  which  I  have  long  been,  my  dear  friend, 
yours  most  sincerely,"  etc. 

Parallel  with  his  devotion  to  scientific  inquiry  was  a  ceaseless 
activity  for  public  good,  wherein  his  career  is  eminently  distin- 
guished from  that  of  the  majority  of  modern  philosophers.  One 
of  the  earliest  projectors  of  the  conquest  of  Canada,  he  was  also 
an  efficient  agent  in  raising  troops  for  the  unfortunate  Braddock ; 
we  find  him  vigorously  at  work  throughout  the  scale  of  official 
duty  and  volunteer  patriotism,  at  home  and  abroad,  through  the 
press  and  in  society  ;  doing  military  service ;  initiating  fire-com- 
panies ;  teaching  "  the  way  to  wealth  ; "  speaker  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vanian  Assembly  ;  a  postmaster  ;*  on  committees  ;  promoting  the 
culture  of  silk  in  America ;  enlightening  the  British  public  on 
colonial  affairs ;  bringing  from  Europe  the  latest  facts  in  science 
and  polity  for  the  benefit  of  his  own  countrymen  ;  casting  type  at 
Passy  for  a  Philadelphia  journal ;  interceding  for  prisoners  of 
war ;  planning  maritime  expeditions  with  Paul  Jones ;  befriend- 
ing Captain  Cooke ;  exciting  French  sympathy  for  the  American 

edgment  of  his  patriotic  virtues,  which  led  him  to  enroll  himself  among  the  noble 
supporters  of  the  cause  of  liberty.  I  assisted  at  one  of  these  entertainments, 
where  the  most  beautiful  from  among  three  hundred  ladies  was  designated  to 
place  a  crown  of  laurel  on  the  gray  head,  and  to  salute  with  a  kiss  each  cheek, 
of  the  American  philosopher." 

*  A  century  ago,  as  Postmaster-General  of  the  American  colonies,  he  set  out,  in 
his  old  gig,  to  make  an  oflBcial  inspection  of  the  principal  routes  ;  and  eighty 
years  since,  he  held  the  same  office  under  the  authority  of  Congress,  when  a 
small  folio,  now  preserved  in  the  department  at  Washington,  containing  three 
quires  of  paper,  served  as  his  account-book  for  two  years. 


468  THE     AMERICAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

cause,  and  baffling  English  prejudice  ;  a  signer  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  ;  framing  treaties  of  alliance  for  his  native  land ; 
the  counsellor  of  the  exile  ;  the  adviser  of  the  official ;  a  commis- 
sioner to  Versailles ;  a  delegate  to  the  convention  which  framed 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  ;  —  a  versatile  and  respon- 
sible series  of  occupations,  enough  to  furnish  alone  the  materials 
of  a  noble  and  distinguished  life,  and  yet  constituting  but  a  single 
phase  of  the  illustrious  career  of  Franklin. 

The  silent  dignity  with  which  he  was  content,  amid  the  inev- 
itable attacks,  and  even  insults,  misrepresentations,  and  sneers, 
which  attend  success  in  every  path  and  superiority  of  whatever 
kind,  is  one  of  the  most  admirable  traits  of  Franklin's  character, 
and  one  that  was  generously  acknowledged  by  his  opponents  when 
the  tide  of  prejudice  and  animosity  ebbed.  He  met  the  caprices 
of  delegated  authority,  the  jealousy  of  his  colleagues,  the  injus- 
tice of  his  political  antagonists,  the  tirade  of  the  solicitor-gen- 
eral of  the  crown,  the  attempts  at  bribery  and  intimidation,  with 
a  serene  and  undemonstrative  resolution.  "  My  rule  is,"  he  said, 
"  to  go  straight  forward  in  doing  what  appears  to  me  right  at  the 
time,  leaving  the  consequences  to  Providence.  I  wish  every  kind 
of  prosperity  to  my  friends,  and  forgive  my  enemies." 

If  there  were  no  blemishes  in  this  picture,  it  would  scarcely  be 
human ;  but  they  are  casual,  and,  like  flitting  shadows,  of  vague 
import,  while  through  and  above  them  the  bland  and  sagacious, 
the  honest. and  wise  lineaments,  tranquilly  beam.  The  spirit  of 
calculation,  the  narrowness  of  prudence,  the  limits  of  a  matter-of- 
fact  vision,  the  gallantries  tolerated  by  the  social  standard  of  the 
times,  the  absence  of  that  impulse  and  abandon^  that  generous 
and  ardent  mood  which  seems  inseparable  from  the  noblest  and 
most  aspiring  natures,  sometimes  render  Franklin  too  exclusively 
a  provident  utilitarian  and  a  creature  of  the  immediate,  to  satisfy 
our  loftiest  ideal  of  character,  or  our  sympathies  with  genius  as 
spontaneously  and  unconsciously  manifest.  Gossip  has  bequeathed 
hints  of  amours  that  derogate  -somewhat  from  the  gravity  of  the 
sage ;  partisan  spite  has  whispered  of  a  too  selfish  estimate  of 
the  chances  of  expediency ;  and  there  are  those  who  find  in  the 
doctrine  and  practice  of  the  American  philosopher  an  undue  esti- 
mate of  thrift,  and  an  illustration  of  the  creed  that  man  "  lives 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN.  469 

by  bread  alone,"  which  chills  enthusiasm  and  subdues  praise. 
But  when  we  contemplate  the  amount  of  practical  good  he 
achieved,  the  value  of  his  scientific  discoveries,  the  uprightness, 
self-devotion,  consistency  of  the  man,  the  loyal  activity  of  the 
patriot,  and  the  interests  he  promoted,  the  habits  he  exemplified, 
the  truths  he  made  vital,  and  the  prosperity  he  initiated,  our 
sense  of  obligation,  our  admiration  of  his  practical  wisdom,  and 
our  love  of  his  genial  utility,  merge  critical  objection  in  honor 
and  gratitude.  What  is  the  flippant  sarcasm  of  the  queen,  cited 
by  Madame  du  Barry,  that  he  eat  asparagus  like  a  savage,  to 
intellectual  Hume's  assertion  that  "  America  has  sent  us  many 
good  things,  gold,  silver,  sugar,  indigo,  etc.,  but  you  are  the  first 
philosopher  "  ?  If,  on  the  one  hand,  his  having  embraced  Vol- 
taire in  the  presence  of  the  French  Academy  be  cited  as  proof 
of  persiflage^  on  the  other,  his  frank  expression  of  religious  con- 
victions to  Dr.  Stiles,  evidences  a  deliberate  faith  in  things 
unseen  and  eternal.  If  the  graphic  pen  of  Mrs.  Grant,  in  depict- 
ing the  candid  graces  of  colonial  life  in  America,  attributes  the 
subsequent  devotion  to  gain,  to  the  economical  maxims  of  Frank- 
lin, the  sacred  opinion  of  Washington  affords  a  more  just  view 
of  the  legitimate  rank  their  author  held  in  the  affections  of  his 
countrymen.  ''If  to  be  venerated  for  benevolence,  if  to  be 
admired  for  talents,  if  to  be  esteemed  for  patriotism,  if  to  be  beloved 
for  philanthropy,  can  gratify  the  human  mind,  you  must  have 
the  pleasing  consolation  to  know  that  you  have  not  lived  in 
vain." 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  spiritual  was  not  developed  in 
Franklin's  nature  in  proportion  to  the  scientific  element,  and,  as 
an  inevitable  consequence,  religion  was  a  grand  social  interest, 
or,  at  most,  a  private  conviction  rather  than  a  matter  of  profession 
or  of  sentiment.  It  is  probable  that  an  early  and  not  auspicious 
familiarity  with  the  conflicts  of  sects  confirmed  his  aversion  to  a 
merely  doctrinal  faith.  He  was  familiar  in  his  native  town  and 
in  his  adopted  home  respectively  with  the  two  extremes  of  pre- 
scriptive belief  and  strongly  marked  individualism,  as  displayed 
by  the  Puritans  and  the  Quakers,  and  found  enough  of  vital 
piety  and  moral  worth  in  both  to  emancipate  him  from  supersti- 
tious reliance  on  a  positive  creed.  But  there  is  ample  evidence 
40 


470  THE     AMERICAN    PHILOSOPHER. 

that  he  recognized  those  broad  and  eternal  truths  which  lie  at 
the  basis  of  all  religion.     He  seems  to  have  profoundly  felt  his 
responsibleness  to  a  higher  than  earthly  power ;  everywhere  he 
beheld  a  wise  and  beneficent  Creator,  in  the  operation  of  material 
and  moral  laws ;  always  he  sought  the  traces  of  Divine  wisdom 
in  the  universe  and  in  events.    We  find  him  advising  his  daughter 
to  rely  more  upon  prayer  than  sermons  ;  recognizing  the  hand  of 
Providence  in  the  destinies  of  his  country ;  moving  a  resolution 
for  devotional  services  in  the  convention  that  framed  the  consti- 
tution ;  preparing  an  abridgment  of  the  ritual ;  and,  in  his  last 
days,  enjoying  those  devotional  poems  which  have, so  long  endeared 
the  name  of  Watts.     It  is  not  so  much  the  comparative  silence  of 
Franklin  on  religious  or  rather  sectarian  questions,  which  has 
given  rise  to  a  vague  notion  of  his  scepticism  and  indifference,  as 
the  fact  that  he  acknowledged  deistical  opinions  in  youth,  and  sub- 
sequently worked  almost  exclusively  in  the  sphere  of  material 
interests,  and  was  intimately  associated  with  the  infidel  philoso- 
phers of  France.     Other  affinities  than  those  of  speculative  unbe- 
lief, however,  allied  him  to  a  class  of  men  whose   names   have 
become  watchwords  of  infidelity ;  literature  and  science,  govern- 
ment and  philosophy,  were  themes  of  mutual  investigation  com- 
mon to  them  and  him;    and  if,   in  order  to  attest  their  sense 
of  his  intelligence  and  republicanism,  they  placed  his  bust  upon 
the  altar  of  the  Jacobin  Club  with  those  of  Brutus,  Helvetius, 
Mirabeau,  and  Rousseau,  it  was  chiefly  because,  with  those  friends 
of  popular  freedom  and  social  reform,  he  had  proved  himself  an 
independent  thinker  and  a  noble  devotee  of  human  progress,  and 
because,  to  the  vague  though  eloquent  sentiment  of  social  amelio- 
ration kindled  by  Jean  Jacques,  his  practical  sagacity  had  given 
actual  embodiment.     Few  men,  indeed,  have  lived  whose  time, 
mind,  and  resources  were  more  wisely  and  conscientiously  directed 
to  the  elevation  of  society,  the  enlightenment  of  the  mass,  and 
the  improvement  of  human  condition.     He  was  indisputably  one 
of  the  greatest  benefactors  of  mankind. 

Except  in  a  scientific  direction,  however,  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged that  the  spirit  of  Franklin's  precepts  and  theories  is  not 
adapted  to  beguile  us  "along  the  line  of  infinite  desires;"  his 
wisdom  was  applicable  to  the  immediate  and  the  essential  in  daily 


BENJAMIN     FRANKLIN.  471 

and  common  life ;  he  dealt  chiefly  with  details ;  he  advocated 
habits,  ideaSj  and  methods,  based  on  positive  utility ;  success  as 
derived  from  patient  and  gradual  but  determined  action,  minute 
observation,  careful  practice,  rather  than  from  broad  generaliza- 
tion, daring  achievement,  or  the  imagination  and  enthusiasm  which 
so  often  prove  intuitive  means  of  triumph,  which  are  indispensable 
in  art,  and  constitute  the  difference  between  the  process  of  genius 
and  that  of  talent.  There  is  nothing  certain,  he  used  to  say,  but 
death  and  taxes ;  happiness  he  believed  the  aggregate  of  small 
satisfactions,  rather  than  the  instant  realization  of  a  great  hope ; 
and  fortune  he  regarded  as  the  reward  of  assiduity  and  prudence, 
rather  than  of  prosperous  adventure  or  of  daring  enterprise. 
Compared  with  the  ephemeral  impulses,  the  obscure  theories,  the 
visionary  and  uncertain  principles,  in  vogue  elsewhere  and  before 
and  since  his  day,  there  was  incalculable  value  in  his  maxims  and 
example.  But  it  would  be  gross  injustice  to  the  versatile  and 
comprehensive  nature  of  man,  to  the  aspirations  of  exalted  minds, 
to  the  facts  of  spiritual  philosophy,  to  the  needs  of  immortal 
instincts,  to  the  faith  of  the  soul,  the  annals  of  genius,  and  the 
possible  elevation  of  society,  to  admit  that  such  views  are  more 
than  the  material  basis  of  human  progress,  or  the  external  condi- 
tions of  individual  development.  What  the  ballast  is  to  the  ship, 
the  trellis  to  the  vine,  health  of  body  to  activity  of  mind,  such 
was  Franklin's  social  philosophy  to  human  welfare ;  all-important 
as  a  means,  inadequate  as  a  final  provision ;  a  method  of  insuring 
the  cooperation  of  natural  aids,  of  fostering  intrinsic  resources, 
whereby  the  higher  elements  may  freely  do  their  work,  and  man, 
sustained  by  favorable  circumstances,  and  unhampered  by  want, 
neglect,  and  improvidence,  may  the  more  certainly  enjoy,  aspire, 
love,  conceive,  expand,  and  labor,  according  to  the  noblest  inspi- 
ration and  the  grandest  scope  of  his  nature  and  his  destiny. 

K  we  compare  the  life  of  Franklin,  as  a  whole,  with  that  of 
other  renowned  philosophers,  we  find  that  the  isolated  self-devo- 
tion, the  egotism  and  vanity,  which  too  often  derogate  from  the 
interest  and  dignity  of  their  characters  as  men,  do  not  mar  the 
unity  of  the  tranquil,  honest,  and  benign  disposition,  which  lends 
a  gracious  charm  to  the  American  philosopher.  Archimedes 
in  vented,  warlike  machines  to  overthrow  the  invaders  of  his  couu- 


472  THE     AMERICAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

try ;  but  his  heart  did  not  warm  like  Franklin's,  nor  did  bis  brain 
work  to  devise  the  means  of  elevating  his  poor  and  ignorant 
fellow-citizens  in  the  scale  of  knowledge  and  self-government. 
Newton  proclaimed  vast  and  universal  laws ;  but  there  was  in  his 
temper  a  morbid  tenacity  of  personal  fame,  beside  which  the  dis- 
interested zeal  of  Franklin  is  beautiful.  The  scope  of  Franklin's 
research  was  limited  in  comparison  with  that  of  Humboldt ;  but 
unsustained,  like  that  noble  savant^  by  royal  patronage,  he  sac- 
rificed his  love  of  science  for  half  his  lifetime  to  the  cause  of  his 
country.  Arago  excelled  him  in  the  power  of  rhetorical  eulogy 
of  the  votaries  of  their  common  pursuits ;  but  while  the  French 
philosopher  spoke  eloquently  to  a  learned  academy,  the  American 
had  a  people  for  his  audience,  and  disseminated  among  them  truths 
vital  to  their  progress  and  happiness,  in  a  diction  so  clear,  direct, 
and  convincing,  that  it  won  them  simultaneously  to  the  love  of 
science  and  the  practice  of  wisdom. 

When  he  was  released  from  official  care,  his  mental  activity, 
though  unremitted,  was  singularly  genial ;  and  to  this  character- 
istic of  the  philosophical  temperament  we  attribute  his  self-posses- 
sion, rational  enjoyment,  and  consequent  longevity;  for,  of  all 
pursuits,  that  which  has  for  its  aim  general  knowledge  and  the 
discovery  and  application  of  truth,  while  it  raises  the  mind  above 
casual  disturbance,  supplies  it  with  an  object  at  once  unimpas- 
sioned  and  attractive,  serene  yet  absorbing,  a  motive  in  social 
intercourse,  and  a  resource  in  seclusion.  Just  before  Thierry's 
recent  death,  although  he  was  long  a  martyr  to  disease,  he 
remarked  to  a  friend :  "  Had  I  to  begin  my  life  again,  I  would 
again  set  out  in  the  path  which  has  led  me  to  where  I  arn.  Blind 
and  suffering,  without  hope  and  without  intermission,  I  may  say, 
without  giving  testimony  which  can  be  suspected,  there  is  some- 
thing in  this  world  better  than  material  pleasure,  better  than 
fortune,  better  than  health  itself,  and  this  is  attachment  to  sci- 
ence." Of  this  goo<l  Franklin  was  a  large  partaker,  and  we 
cannot  but  imagine  the  delight  and  sympathy  with  which  he 
would  have  followed  the  miraculous  progress  of  the  modem 
sciences,  and  of  those  ideas  of  which  he  beheld  but  the  dawn. 
"I  have  sometimes  almost  wished,"  he  writes,  ''it  had  been  my 
destmy  to  be  born  two  or  three  centuries  hence ;  for  inventions 


BENJAMIN     FRANKLIN.  4^3 

and  improvements  are  prolific,  and  beget  more  of  their  kind." 
Had  lie  lived  a  little  more  than  another  fifty  years,  he  would  have 
seen  the  mode  of  popular  education  initiated  by  the  Spectator 
expanded  into  the  elaborate  Review,  the  brilliant  Magazine,  the 
Household  Words,  and  scientific  journals  of  the  present  day ;  the 
rude  hand-press,  upon  which  he  arranged  the  miniature  "  copy" 
of  the  New  England  Courant,  transformed  into  electrotyped 
cylinders  worked  by  steam  and  throwing  ofi"  thirty  thousand 
printed  sheets  an  hour ;  the  thin  almanac,  with  its  proverbs  and 
cal6ndar,  grown  to  a  plethoric  volume,  rich  in  astronomical  lore 
and  the  statistics  of  a  continent;  the  vessel  dependent  on  the 
caprice  of  the  winds  and  an  imperfect  science  of  navigation,  self- 
impelled  with  a  pre-calculated  rate  of  speed,  and  by  the  most 
authentic  charts ;  and  the  subtle  fluid,  that  his  prescience  caught 
up  and  directed  safely  by  a  metal  rod,  sent  along  leagues  of  wire 
—  the  silent  and  instant  messenger  of  the  world !  With  what 
keen  interest  would  he  have  followed  Davy,  with  his  safety-lamp, 
into  the  treacherous  mine ;  accompanied  Fulton  in  his  first  steam 
voyage  up  the  Hudson ;  watched  Daguerre  as  he  made  his  sun- 
pictures  ;  seen  tlie  vineyards  along  the  Ohio  attest  his  prophetic 
advocacy  of  the  Rhenish  grape-culture ;  heard  Miller  discourse 
of  the  "  Old  Red  Sandstone,"  Morse  explain  the  Telegraph,  or 
Maury  the  tidal  laws !  Chemistry,  almost  born  since  his  day, 
would  open  a  new  and  wonderful  realm  to  his  consciousness ;  the 
Cosmos  of  Humboldt  would  draw  his  entranced  gaze  down  every 
vista  of  natural  science,  as  if  to  reveal  at  a  glance  a  programme 
of  all  the  great  and  beautiful  secrets  of  the  universe ;  and  the 
reckless  enterprise  and  mad  extravagance  of  his  prosperous  coun- 
try would  elicit  more  emphatic  warnings  than  Poor  Richard 
breathed  of  old. 

There  have  been  many  writers  who,  in  simple  and  forcible 
English,  by  arguments  drawn  froL^  pure  common  sense  and 
enlivened  by  wit  or  eloquence,  interpreted  political  truth,  and 
vastly  aided  the  education  of  the  people.  But,  in  the  case  of 
Franklin,  this  practical  service  of  authorship  was  immeasurably 
extended  and  confirmed  by  the  prestige  of  his  electrical  discoveries, 
by  the  dawning  greatness  and  original  principles  of  the  country 
of  which  he  was  so  prominent  a  representative,  and  by  the  extraor- 
40* 


474  THE    AMERICAN     PHILOSOPHER. 

dinary  circumstances  of  his  times,  when  great  social  and  political 
questions  were  brought  to  new  and  popular  tests,  which  made  the 
homely  scientific  republican  an  oracle  in  the  most  luxurious  and 
artificial  of  despotic  courts.  When  the  intricate  tactics  of  rival 
armies  have  been  exhausted,  the  able  general  has  recourse  to  a 
coup  de  mam,  and  effects  by  simple  bravery  what  stratagem 
failed  to  win.  When  a  question  has  been  discussed  until  its  pri- 
mary significance  is  almost  forgotten  in  a  multitude  of  side-issues, 
the  true  orator  suddenly  brings  to  a  focus  the  scattered  elements 
of  the  theme,  and,  by  a  clear  and  emphatic  statement,  reproduces 
its  normal  features,  and,  through  a  bold  analysis,  places  it  in  the 
open  light  of  truth,  and  heralds  the  bewildered  council  to  a  final 
decision.  In  like  manner,  when  vital  principles  of  government 
and  society  have  been  complicated  by  interest,  speculation,  and 
misfortune,  when  men  have  grown  impatient  of  formulas  and 
ceremonies,  and  aspire  to  realities,  he  who  in  his  speech,  dress, 
habits,  writings,  manners,  and  achievements,  —  or,  in  the  expo- 
nent of  all  these,  his  character,  —  represents  most  truly  the 
normal  instincts,  average  common  sense,  and  practicable  good,  of 
his  race,  is  welcomed  as  an  exemplar,  an  authority,  and  a  repre- 
sentative. Such  was  the  American  philosopher  at  once  in  the 
eyes  of  a  newly-organized  and  self-dependent  nation,  and  in  those 
of  an  ancient  people,  in  its  transition  from  an  outgrown  to  an 
experimental  regime. 

He  took  his  degree  in  the  school  of  humanity  before  the  tech- 
nical honor  was  awarded  by  Oxford,  Edinburgh,  and  the  Royal 
Society.  It  was  this  preeminent  distinction  which  led  Sydney 
Smith  to  playfully  threaten  his  daughter,  "  I  will  disinherit  you 
if  you  do  not  admire  everything  written  by  Franklin ; "  and 
which  enshrines  his  memory  in  the  popular  heart,  makes  him 
still  the  annual  hero  of  the  printer's  festival,  associates  his  name 
with  townships  and  counties,  inns  and  ships,  societies  and  period- 
icals, —  with  all  the  arrangements  and  objects  of  civilization  that 
aim  to  promote  the  enlightenment  and  convenience  of  man.  The 
press  and  the  lightning-rod,  the  almanac,  the  postage-stamp,  and 
the  free-school  medal,*  attest  his  usefulness  and  renown;  maxims 

*  **  I  was  born  in  Boston,  in  New  England,"  —  this  is  the  simple  language  of 
his  will,  —  "and  owe  my  first  instructions  in  literature  to  the  free  grammar 


BENJAMIN     FRANKLIN.  475 

of  practical  wisdom  more  numerouii  than  Don  Quixote's  garrulous 
squire  cited  gave  birth  under  his  hand  to  a  current  proverbial 
philosophy ;  and  his  effigy  is,  therefore,  the  familiar  symbol  of 
independence,  of  popular  education,  and  self-culture.  Those 
shrewd  and  kindly  features,  and  that  patriarchal  head,  are  as 
precious  to  the  humble  as  the  learned ;  and  in  every  land  and 
every  language  Franklin  typifies  the  "greatest  good  of  the 
greatest  number."  Mignot  rightly  defines  him  as  "  gifted  with 
the  spirit  of  observation  and  discovery  ;  "  Davy  calls  his  induc- 
tive power  felicitous ;  Paul  Jones  augured  success  in  his  desperate 
sea-fights  from  the  "  Bon  Homme  Richard;"  and  the  memorable 
epigraph  of  Turgot  is  the  acknowledged  motto  of  his  escutcheon : 

•*  Enipuit  coelo  fulmen 
Sceptrumque  tyrannis." 

schools  established  there."  He  added  the  bequest  of  a  fund,  of  which  the  income 
should  be  annually  applied,  in  silver  medals,  to  be  awarded  to  the  most  merito- 
rious boys  in  these  schools. 


\o- 


Hi 


14  DAY  USE 

^   RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 

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.     ^^^^^^  -M^  ~^c<n^^ 

INTr!5-LrBRARV 
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